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popular Stories. 

By AMY BROOKS. 

Each Beautifully Illustrated by the Author. 

THE RANDY BOOKS. 

Five Volumes Ready. i2mo. Cloth. Striking Cover 
Designs by the Author. Price $i.oo, 

RANDY’S SUMMER. 

RANDY’S WINTER. 

RANDY AND HER FRIENDS. 

RANDY AND PRUE. 

RANDY’S GOOD TIMES. 


3for IPounger IReabers. 

DOROTHY DAINTY SERIES. 

Large l2mo. Cloth. Cover Designs by the Author. 
Set in large English type. Price ^i.oo. 

DOROTHY DAINTY. DOROTHY’S PLAYMATES. 
DOROTHY AT SCHOOL. 


A JOLLY CAT TALE. Large i 2 mo. Qoth. 

Profusely Illustrated. Price . . , , $i.oo 




rr 



She looked from the window, but could see no one 

Page 58. 



Zbc IRanb? Boofts 


KANDY’S GOOD TIMES 


BY 


AMY BKOOKS 
n 

Author of “Randy’s Summer,’* “ Randy’s Winter,’’ “Randy and 
Her Friends,’’ “Randy and Prue,’’ “A Jolly Cat Tale,’’ 
“Dorothy Dainty,’’ “Dorothy’s Playmates,’’ 

“ Dorothy Dainty at School ’’ 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR 



BOSTON 

LEE AND SHEPARD 
1904 



- 2/7 £ 2 - 


Published in August, 1904 


UBBftRY of CONGRESS 
Two OoDles Received 

AUG 22 1904 

Cooyrieht Entry 

/ ^ o f 
CLASS ^ XXo. Na 
8 JT 4, ^ 

COPY B 



Copyright, 1904, by Lee and Shepard 


All lights reserved 


Randy’s Good Times 


l^orvooob press 
Berwick and Smith Co. 
Norwood, Mass. 

U. S. A. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Aunt Prudence and Philury Meet . 9 

II. A Costume Festival 25 

III. Just a Whisper . . . . .44 

IV. ‘ ‘ Music Hath Charms ” . . . .62 

V. A Hasty Departure 84 

VI. A News Gatherer 106 

VII. At the Village Store . . . .131 

VIII. The Holiday Club 151 

IX. Prue's Bargain 172 

X. Aunt Nabby Ware’s Awakening . . 186 

XI. A Wedding 199 

XII. ’Mongst Iris Blooms 219 

XIII. A Confession 239 

XIV. Two Cavaliers 255 




ILLUSTRATIONS 


Paqb 

She looked from the window, but could see 


no one {FrontUpUce) 58 

The Costume Festival 44 

That’s a well-matched pair ” 98 ^ 


“Le’ go my collar, er I can’t dig” .... 127*^ 

Janie tells Sandy her conversation with Agatha 175 ^ 
Her hands were clasped impulsively upon her 

breast 216 , 






RANDY’S GOOD TIMES 


CHAPTER I 

AUNT PRUDENCE AND PHILURY MEET 

Sunlight, warm summer sunlight, lay 
upon the pink clover blossoms in the fields, 
upon the rose bushes which bloomed luxuri- 
antly beside Squire Weston^s doorway, upon 
the hillside farm itself with its well-kept 
buildings and broad acres, and upon one of 
the Squire’s dearest possessions, his daugh- 
ter Randy, who stood in the doorway listen- 
ing to the droning of the bees and the long, 
shrill trill of the locusts. 

Squire Weston often said that he had been 
greatly blessed, havin’ reason ter be proud 
er my wife an’ my two darters, the three best 
gifts a man ever had.” 

The trilling of the locusts became louder, 
9 


10 BANDY’S GOOD TIMES 
and just as Eandy was wondering if she 
had ever before realized what noisy little 
singers they were, a lusty voice from the 
kitchen made itself heard, drowning the in- 
sects^ din: 

“ The grasshopper’s green, and the humble bees 
Kin sing as long an’ loud as they please, 

But I don’t keer fer notes nor time, 

So long as the words I sing does rhyme.” 

Philury^s extremely happy to-day. Her 
pies looked delicious when she took them 
from the oven, and she is very proud of her 
cooking,” mused Randy, smiling as she 
thought of the droll tune and improvised 
words. 

In the hot kitchen stood Philury, gazing 
at a fine array of pies and cake which she 
had baked, and as Mrs. Weston appeared in 
the doorway, she said : 

Jest look at ^em, Mis^ Weston, look at 
’em ! Ain’t they beauties? I tell ye, I ain’t 
made any pies that could beat ’em since I 
fust came here ter work fer ye. The Squire 
sets a store by pies, an’ I know these ’ll 


AUNT PRUDENCE AND PHILURY 11 
make his eyes twinkle. I do like ter please 
ye, Mis’ Weston, an’ I mus’ say I ’dmire ter 
work fer the Squire.” 

Ye’re a faithful girl, Philury,” said Mrs. 
Weston ; I don’t know what we should do 
without ye. Kandy thinks the world of ye, 
and little Prue loves ye dearly.” 

Bless me! Ef that don’t remind me; 
there’s a turnover in the oven fer Prue. I 
hope I haven’t burnt it.” She hastened to 
the range and looked eagerly in. 

I dew declare, that’s luck ! Been in ten 
minutes longer’n I meant it should, an’ ain’t 
burnt neither. I vaow, when my bakin’ 
turns aout A1 like that, I can’t restrain 
myself ; I jest bust aout inter song : 

“ Apples an’ sugar an’ spice, say I, 

Will make the very best kind er pie ; 

But gimme the crust and plenty er mince 
’N’ I’ll make a pie that would please a prince.” 

Mrs. Weston retreated laughing. Phil- 
ury’s cheerfulness was infectious, but her 
vocal efforts were so vociferous that they 
could best be enjoyed at a distance. 


12 


BANDY’S GOOD TIMES 


Still in the doorway Kandy stood, her 
lovely face wearing an expression of 
mingled thoughtfulness and amusement. 
She was wondering if Aunt Prudence, when 
she arrived, would appreciate Philury; if 
Philury would take kindly to the austere 
woman whose warm heart was hidden be- 
neath a stern exterior. 

Philury has what she calls her ^ opin- 
ions,^ and she does not hesitate to express 
them,^’ thought Randy, and Aunt Pru- 
dence always says that she can ^ speak to 
the p’int.^ I do wonder how they will get 
on together.” 

Again the droning of the bees made itself 
heard, and yet another sound became audi- 
ble, and Randy, shading her eyes with her 
hand, looked down toward the sunny, wind- 
ing road, the main road toward the Centre. 

Surely she had not been mistaken. It 
was not the song of the insects which she 
had heard. The creaking, rattling, monoto- 
nous sound down there upon the road told 
of an approaching team. A moment more. 


AUNT PRUDENCE AND PHILURY 13 
and between the trees the wagon could be 
plainly seen, the Squire driving and — ^yes, 
Aunt Prudence beside him. 

Without waiting to announce the ar- 
rival, Kandy hastened down the path, a 
graceful figure, in her pink gown and white 
apron. Her eyes were sparkling, and her 
pretty cheeks flushed as she greeted the 
visitor. 

Oh, Aunt Prudence ! How flne of you 
^ to come back to us so soon,” she cried, as to- 
gether they walked toward the wide-open 
door. 

How did father know that you were 
coming, for of course he did know, or he 
would not have driven over to the station 
for you? ” 

<< Why, Randy, how pleased ye look. I 
declare I’m glad ’nough I’m here ef it so 
delights ye. Yer father got my letter last 
night, an’ in it I told him not ter let on that 
I was cornin’, but jest drive over to the 
Centre an’ fetch me home fer a surprise.” 

Mr. Weston had gone to the barn with 


14 


BANDY’S GOOD TIMES 


Snowfoot, and together Aunt Prudence and 
Randy entered the door. Mrs, Weston had 
seen them coming and she hastened to greet 
the welcome guest, saying : 

Ye well know haow glad I be ter see ye 
’fore I say a word, an’ yet I hev ter tell ye 
that yer comin’s a blessin’, not but that 
we’ve been flourishin’ while ye’ve been away, 
but we’ll all be glad ter know ye’ll take a 
hand at the helm, so ter speak, ’specially 
Randy. She’s jest a leetle in need er ye at 
the present time, havin’ been strivin’ all 
along ter take the care an’ responsibility off 
er my shoulders.” 

Randy was about to speak, when Prue 
rushed in. Her sunbonnet, hanging by its 
strings, lay upon her shoulders, and with 
a chubby hand she impatiently brushed back 
her tangled curls as she exclaimed : 

Somebody’s got to come right out and 
tell Johnny Buffum that he needn’t play in 
our dooryard if he can’t stop saying that 
boys are lots smarter than girls. He’s all 
the time saying it, and if he truly thinks 


AUNT PRUDENCE AND PHILURY 15 


it, what makes him keep playing with 
girls? 

Then as she turned to ask Randy^s aid in 
subduing the doughty Johnny, she espied 
Aunt Prudence, and her frown disappeared, 
completely routed by a bright smile of wel- 
come. 

Oh, have you come to stay? ” she asked, 
to stay a long time, have you truly? ” 

Wal, yes, Prue, IVe come ter be with 
ye all fer quite a spell,’’ she answered ; then 
turning toward Mrs. Weston, she said : 

Ye remember when I left here, I’d jest 
got a letter from Jake Somersworth, sayin’ 
that he’d got ’nough er farmin’, an’ as he’d 
’baout decided ter retire, I’d hev ter be er 
lookin’ raound fer another man ter run my 
little farm. I was all stirred up ’baout it, 
but needn’t er worried, fer I’ve faound a 
man that can do twice the work that Jake 
could and do it twice as well besides. I 
tell ye he’s a prize, an’ I think I was lucky 
when I 


Suddenly, and without warning, Philury 


16 RANDT8 GOOD TIMES 
Flanders lifted her sonorous voice, and 
Aunt Prudence, as she covered her ears with 
her hands, ejaculated : 

Fer massy sakes, whaPs that? 

“ Life’s a job, an’ no mistake ; 

Fust ye brew an’ then ye bake, 

Next ye bake an’ then ye brew, 

Whether ye’re here er in Tim-buc-<tfW / ” 

The last syllable ended in what might 
truthfully be called a shriek of song, and 
Aunt Prudence, with startled eyes, and her 
hands still covering her ears, looked from 
one face to the other and then glanced fur- 
tively toward the half-open kitchen door. 

Mrs. Weston and Kandy were laughing 
too heartily to admit of speech, but Prue, 
who saw nothing at all amusing in the situa- 
tion, looked up into Aunt Prudence^s face 
as she said: 

Why, thaPs only just Philury.” 

“ Wal, I was jest about ter ask ye ef the 
pusson er doin^ the singin^ was sane, but ef 
iPs the Philury yeVe been writin’ ’baout, 
why I s^pose iPs all right. She canT be 


AUNT PRUDENCE AND PHILURY 17 
reely dangerous, ’cept ter other folks’s bear- 
in’. I declare she ’most stunned me.” 

I just love to have Philury sing, ’cause 
it sounds so jolly,” said Prue; ’sides I can 
hear her wherever I’m playin’.” 

I’ve no doubt ye could, whether ye was 
at Dan or Besheeby, an’ as ter bein’ cheer- 
ful — wal, it’s jest hilarious , said Aunt Pru- 
dence. 

Yes, isiPt it? ” agreed Prue, who, while 
not fully comprehending the meaning of the 
words, felt sure that they implied a compli- 
ment for Philury. 

Suddenly the kitchen door opened. “ Ye 
couldn’t settle whether ye’d like biscuits er 
johnny cakes fer tea, so I jest stepped in ter 
tell ye that I’m willin^ ter make both, ef ye 
like, an’ ye can take yer choice, come tea- 
time, an’ the jam that’s in the stone pot in 

the butt’ry Oh, Ian’, Mis’ Weston, I 

didn’t reelize ye had comp’ny, er I’d ” 

Come right in, Philury,” said Mrs. Wes- 
ton ; this isn’t comp’ny ; this is part er the 
fam’ly.” 


18 


B.ANDT8 GOOD TIMES 


Philury advanced, twisting the corner of 
her apron and blushing violently. To so 
hastily have entered the sitting room, shout- 
ing her plans for tea, was indeed embar- 
rassing. 

This is Aunt Prudence of whom Randy 
and Prue have told such pleasant things,” 
said Mrs. Weston, then turning to Aunt 
Prudence she said : I^m makin’ ye 

acquainted with Philury Flanders, one er 
the most industrious an’ willin’est girls 
that ever lived.” 

I’m pleased to meet ye,” said Aunt Pru- 
dence, warmly grasping the girl’s proffered 
hand. “ I like the girl that’s ambitious an’ 
ain’t afraid er work.” 

Philury blushed with pleasure. 

I like ter work,” she said, an’ I’m apt 
ter sing when I’m busy. I guess likely ye 
heard me, fer I was feelin’ extry good ter- 
day, an’ I sung kind er strong.” 

I’d ’nough sight rather work beside a 
singer than a grumbler, though at times I 
hev a pain ter my head, an’ then I may ask 


AUNT PRUDENCE AND PHILURY 19 
ye ter be a little keerful ’bout the ’mount er 
noise ye make,” Aunt Prudence replied. 

“ Oh, I don’t hev ter sing loud,” Philury 
answered, with twinkling eyes, “ an’ mebbe 
I kin kind er scrimp my music ef it bothers 
ye.” 

I guess we shall git on pooty well to- 
gether,” said Aunt Prudence, and do ye 
sing away ’til I stop ye. P’raps yer tunes ’ll 
make me step lively ter keep time ter the 
music.” 

Thus it happened that Philury Flanders, 
won by Aunt Prudence’s kind, frank words, 
at once decided that she could work ami- 
cably beside the elder woman, whose sharp 
eyes had at first disconcerted her, and Aunt 
Prudence believed that in Philury she had 
found the ideal handmaiden. 

Mrs. Weston decided that the two would 
glide smoothly along as on an unruffled sea ; 
but Pandy, half doubtful, half amused, won- 
dered when the first clash would come. 

Aunt Prudence is pleasant, and Philury 
is good-tempered, but they both think they 


20 


RANDTS GOOD TIMES 


know exactly how things should be done, 
so if it happens that they do not quite' 

agree ’’ thought Randy. A merry smile 

parted her lips, and she laughed softly as 
she thought of Philury, expounding her 
views, and Aunt Prudence as promptly de- 
nouncing them as unsound principles upon 
which to cater for a household. 

Aunt Prudence had been at the Weston 
farm nearly three weeks, and Randy had 
about decided that peace would reign in- 
definitely in the kitchen, when one morning 
Philury arose possessed of more than her 
usual supply of high spirits. As luck would 
have it. Aunt Prudence declared herself to 
be uncommon tired,’’ and Philury hastened 
to say good-naturedly : 

Ef ye don’t feel real spry, ye needn’t 
feel called ter help me, fer I kin do all there 
is to do this mornin’, an’ twice over.” 

It was kindly meant, but Aunt Prudence 
considered her presence absolutely neces- 
sary in the kitchen, and therefore was not 


AUNT PRUDENCE AND PHILURY 21 
wholly pleased that the girl thought it 
possible to perform the many tasks unas- 
sisted. 

“Ye^ll doubtless be able ter do all the 
work, but when it comes ter makin^ the cup 
cake I guess 1^11 have to supervise ye, seein’s 
the parson^s cornin’ ter tea. He’s powerful 
fond er cup cake, an’ Mis’ Weston ’ll v/ant 
it ter be Al, I tell ye,” remarked Aunt Pru- 
dence, to which with much spirit Philury 
replied : 

“ Wal, of all things ! Why, I’ve made 
cup cake daown ter aour haouse an’ up here 
for the Squire, goodness knows how many 
times, an’ I never made a loaf of it that 
wasn’t extry fine. Why, anybody could 
make it that knew the reule. I could make 
it with mv eves shet.” 

I’d ’nough sight rather ye’d have ’em 
open ter see what ye was doin’ ef ye was 
makin’ it fer me,” Aunt Prudence responded 
sharply. 

I ain’t thinkin’ er shettin’ ’em, but I 
don’t hev ter read the reule,” said Philury, 


22 BANDY’S GOOD TIMES 

her eyes snapping, and her lips puckered as 

if about to whistle. 

Be ye sure ye know the reule? ’’ ques- 
tioned Aunt Prudence. 

One cup er butter, two cups er sugar, 
three cups er flaour, an’ four eggs,” recited 
Philury ; but this time, in honor er Parson 
Spooner, I’m goin’ ter use fivel’ 

Naow, Philury Flanders,” remarked 
Aunt Prudence excitedly, “ don’t ye trifle 
with that reule. Cup cake’s been made with 
four eggs since the land knows when. 
My great-grandmother made it so, an’ I’ve 
made it with four ever sence.” 

The girl’s eyes twinkled merrily as she 
said : 

“All the same I’m goin’ ter use flve. Mis’ 
Weston and the Squire always says: 

“ ‘ Use all the eggs you choose ’ ; an’ I 
choose ter use flve ter-day.” 

Aunt Prudence retreated in a huff. She 
considered that Philury had defied her. 

Left in possession of the kitchen, Philury 
baked the cup cake and compounded many 


AUNT PRUDENCE AND PHILURY 23 
other dainties in honor of the parson^s visit, 
and when in brave array they were spread 
upon the table in time for tea, nothing was 
missing except the cup cake. 

The parson and his good wife were being 
entertained in the best room,’^ and Aunt 
Prudence ventured to assist Philury. 

Oh, youVe set the table,” she said, I 
didn’t know but ye’d ’low me ter help ye 
that much.” 

Then noting that the usually well-filled 
cake plate was not in evidence, she wondered 
if the five eggs had made Philury’s cake a 
failure. For what other reason should it 
be omitted from the spread? 

Philury, hev ye forgot to put the cake 
on the table? ” she asked. 

No,” Philury answered, I was er 
waitin’ ter show it ter ye, an’ make my peace 
with ye ’fore tea.” 

She hastened to the closet and returning 
with the china plate heaped with delicious 
looking cake, placed it before Aunt Pru- 
dence without a word. 


24 


BANDY’S GOOD TIMES 


‘‘ Why, yeVe made yaller frostin’ fer it ! 
I do’no’s I ever see cup cake frosted. It 
looks han’some; but what did ye color the 
frostin’ with — with that fifth egg, ye witch?” 
questioned Aunt Prudence, with a little 
twinkle in her eye. 

Yes, I did,” admitted the girl. Oh, I 
didn’t mean ter pester ye,” she continued, 
fer I like ye, ye know I do, but something 
tempted me ter tease ye a little. I knew all 
the time ’twas the frostin’ I was goin’ ter 
use it fer. ’Twould be most like fiyin’ in 
the face er Providence ter use a extry egg, 
er make any difference in that ’ere reule.” 

Let’s jest shake hands an’ say no more 
about it,” said Aunt Prudence. Ye will 
hev yer little joke, Philury, an’ I oughtn’t 
ter mind.” 

I wan’t no ways meanin’ ter be disre- 
spec’ful,” said Philury humbly. 

‘‘ Who knows that better’n I do? ” Aunt 
Prudence answered, smiling as she hastened 
toward the “ best room ” to announce that 
tea was ready. 


CHAPTER II 


A COSTUME FESTIVAL 

The magnetism of Randy^s merry, hope- 
ful, loving nature held her friends captive 
with golden bands. She made no effort to 
charm, but her warm heart and sunny 
nature lent sweetness to her voice, and her 
hand was ever outstretched to do a kindly 
act or give a cordial greeting. 

Among those whom she held dearest was 
Helen Dayton, whom she had first met in 

her own little town w^hen, as a summer 

♦ 

boarder at the Grey farm. Miss Dayton had 
made many friends among the village peo- 
ple. 

Could she ever forget the delightful visit 
to Boston, where at her friend’s lovely home 
she had spent an eventful winter? 

In a recent letter Miss Dayton had spoken 
of some quaint gowns belonging to Randy’s 
26 


26 


BAN Dr S GOOD TIMES 


mother and to Mrs. Grey, and Mrs. Grey 
had thought that it might be possible to 
give a parish festival, in which all present 
should be arrayed in ancient costume. 

Parson Spooner suggested that the par- 
sonage should be thrown open for the occa- 
sion; or, if that were not sufficiently spa- 
cious, then the vestry of the church should 
be tendered for the event. 

A ripple of excitement passed over the 
assemblage when, from the pulpit. Parson 
Spooner gave out the notice of the fes- 
tival. 

Members of other parishes are cordially 
invited to be present,” he said, “ and I hope 
that the surrounding towns will be well rep- 
resented. The only arbitrary rule regard- 
ing the entertainment is, that all present 
shall be dressed in old-time costume; the 
older or more quaint the dress, the better. 
I believe that every family has in old trunks 
or chests, garments which were worn by 
their ancestors, and if we all enter heartily 
into the plan we shall have a delightful 


A COSTUME FESTIVAL 27 
evening and the proceeds from the sale of 
the tickets will add materially to the church 
funds.’’ 

If the festival thus planned had meant 
an expenditure of money there would have 
been much murmuring, and the parson 
might surely have expected a meager attend- 
ance, but, fortunately for all interested, 
there were many, many ancient costumes 
hidden away in garret and store-room, and 
such a flurry of trying on ” never was 
known in the town before. 

At breakfast, at dinner, at tea, before 
breakfast and between meals in every house- 
hold and at any hour, one might, if one lis- 
tened, hear such questions as these : 

Would you wear the blue chintz that 
belonged to mother’s cousin Lois, or the 
pink striped muslin that Great-aunt Nabby 
wore? ” 

Or sometimes it was a question like this : 

Why don’t you wear your great-great- 
grandmother’s blue checked silk with a 
calash to match? ” 


28 


BANDY’S GOOD TIMES 


how ye talk ! That blue calash on 
my head would make me look like a big red 
peony. 

Wal, wear one of her caps, then, ef ye 
don’t take to the calash ; tho’ I’ll inform ye 
that that ’ere headgear wan’t ter be sniffed 
at when it was in fashion.” 

The enthusiasm was not limited to house- 
hold chatter. 

Parson Spooner, while hastening along the 
main road toward the village one morning, 
was much amused b}^ the following conver- 
sation whicli he chanced to overhear. 

Wal, be ye goin’, an’ what be ye goin’ ter 
wear? ” 

The questioner leaned upon the top rail 
of the fence as he waited for a reply. 

Old Mr. Simpkins, to whom the all-impor- 
tant question was propounded, paused, 
arose stiffly from the piece of wall which 
he was building, and placing his hand at 
his ear, trumpet fashion, ejaculated: 

Hey? ” 

The man at the bars placed his hands 


A C08TUME FESTIVAL 


29 


about his mouth as if trying to impersonate 
a dinner horn and loudly repeated his ques- 
tion. 

I say, be ye goin’, an’ what be ye goin’ 
ter wear? ” 

Oh, ter the festival, ye mean? I’m so 
tarnal deef I thought ye was askin’ what I’d 
been doin’ ter my hair, ’n’ I was a-goin’ ter 
say that I bought some hair ile of one er 
them dratted agents, an’ it’s plumb full er 
kurosene; ye can smell it a mile off, ’n’ he 
said it would thicken up the hair an’ smell 
like roses. My wife says it jest pays me fer 
buyin’ suthin’ of every slick-talkin’ feller 
that comes by. 

But speakin’ of the fest’val, I’m figgerin’ 
ter go, an’ Mis’ Simpkins says as haow I’d 
aought ter wear her Uncle Jehiel’s suit he 
wore when he d’rected the singin’ school. I 
won’t do it, though. I don’t wear no spike- 
tailed coat with er collar like the bug per- 
tecters that I’ve put onto my trees. 

No, sir-ee ! I’m er goin’ ter wear the 
mil’tary clothes that my gran’ther Jehosa- 


30 RANDTS GOOD TIMES 

phat Simpkins wore when he fit inter the 

Rev’lution.’^ 

Is it the kind er uniform that has brass 
buttons on the coat, and a three-cornered 
hat? queried the man at the bars. 

Three-cornered 'bat? questioned old 
Mr. Simpkins, with a wild stare upward. 

Why, whereM ye see ’em? I ain’t seen 
any but the common kind, an’ them only at 
night.” 

Jiminy! Ain’t he deef, though! ” ejacu- 
lated the man as he turned from the bars 
and ambled off down the road. 

I declare it’s wuss’n doin’ a day’s work 
ter try to talk with him,” and the village 
ne’er-do-weel ” hastened on toward the 
Centre, hoping there to find boon compan- 
ions with whom to discuss the great event. 

The sitting room at the Weston farm pre- 
sented the appearance of having been trans- 
formed into a costume parlor, for upon the 
table, the lounge and chairs, were spread 
dresses and parts of dresses, quaint bonnets 


A OOSTUMB FESTIVAL 31 
and wraps, and a box containing several 
pairs of ancient slippers stood near the win- 
dow, in company with several old-fashioned 
band-boxes. 

Aunt Prudence Weston had taken great 
interest in the plans for the entertainment, 
and especially was she solicitous that Randy 
should wear a becoming costume. 

It being Saturday afternoon, Prue was at 
home, and within ten minutes from the time 
when Philury had brought the band-boxes 
from the attic, the small girl had tried on 
every bonnet which they had contained. 
She was about to array herself in a gaudily 
flowered gown, when Aunt Prudence entered 
the room. 

This room beats all ! ” she ejaculated. 

It looks like as if we was goin’ ter ride 
aout.^^ 

Then espying Prue, who had thrown the 
dress skirt over her head, and was now peer- 
ing out through the opening, she said : 

Naow, Prue, ye jest put that daown an’ 
quit handlin’ them clothes.” 


32 


RANDY’S GOOD TIMJES 


But I want to know what I^m going to 
wear to the party, don’t I?” questioned 
Prue. 

Certain,” Aunt Prudence answered, 
an’ in good time we’ll tell ye, but fust we’ve 
got ter choose fer Randy, an’ ef ye let things 
alone, and don’t hender us with mischief, 
ye’ll not hev long ter wait, seein’s I’ve some- 
thing ’specially set aside fer ye already.” 

Oh, oh ! What’s it like? ” cried Prue in 
great excitement. “ Is it blue, or pink, or 
yellow? Has it got flowers on it? Is it a 
short dress or a long one, and has it got a 
bonnet and slippers to go with it? Has it? 
Has it got a trail to it? Has it got ruffles 
on it? Is it striped or plain, or what is 
it?” 

Aunt Prudence turned and with a droll 
smile surveyed the little dancing figure, 
whose eager hands were clasping and un- 
clasping, while her bright eyes sparkled 
with anticipation, her red lips parted as she 
impatiently awaited answers for her many 
queries. 


A COSTUME FESTIVAL 33 

Every question ye^ve asked ^11 be an- 
swered when ye see the frock ye^re to 
wear. 

’Twas one my Great-aunt Keziah^s 
daughter wore when she was little, and I^ve 
had it fer years in a trunk up attic at home. 
I sent fer it a week ago, and it got here last 
night. Naow amuse yourself some way 
while we decide what will best suit Kandy, 
and then we^ll see haow ye look in the little 
frock and cap.’’ 

Well, if it’s pink. I’ll like it, and if it’s 
blue I’ll just ’mire it, and if it’s yellow, 
bright yellow. I’ll be so glad I’ll ’most have 
a fit,” exclaimed Prue. 

Let us all be thankful ’tisn’t yaller,” 
remarked Aunt Prudence dryly. 

“ Oh, here’s Randy ! ” cried Prue. “ Come, 
try on all these things; Aunt Prudence 
wants you to.” 

“ Not all of them at once, I hope,” said 
Randy, as she took a quaint old bonnet from 
its box and placed it upon her head, tying 
the wide strings under her chin, and turn- 


34 


RANDY’S GOOD TIMES 




ing, that her mother, who stood in the door- 
way, might see the effect. 

« Why, Eandy,’’ said Mrs. Weston, I al- 
ways thought that that bonnet was becom- 
ing to me when I wore it; and there ye 
stand, lookin’ fer all the world as I did 
when I fust tied it on.” 

“ Eandy looks a sight as ye used ter look,” 
said Aunt Prudence, an’ she don’t need 
ter wear the bun nit ter make us see the re- 
semblance. Naow, Eandy,” she continued, 
s’pose ye put on this chintz gaown ; I have 
a notion ’twill be becomin’.” 

But when the dress was on. Aunt Pru- 
dence did not think it suitable. She would 
not have spoken the thoughts which filled 
her mind, but the truth was that she was 
genuinely proud of Eandy’s fresh beauty, 
and was only kept from speaking her admi- 
ration by the fear of encouraging vanity. 

Eandy ain’t the least bit vain,” she had 
once said to Mrs. Weston, and that’s half 
the pleasure in lookin’ at her. She takes 
the pretty speeches that’s continooaly made 


A COSTUJIB FESTIVAL 35 
to her as simply as if she thought they were 
only said in sport.’’ 

Mrs. Weston looked up at Aunt Prudence 
with a happy smile. 

Ye think aour Kandy’s well-nigh per- 
fect, and ye want any faults which yer little 
namesake Prue may chance ter hev, excused 
er overlooked,” she said. 

Wal, I shan’t say whether that’s true er 
not,” Aunt Prudence replied, but I will 
say that it would be resky fer any one ter 
crittersize them in my bearin’.” 

Aunt Prudence turned to an old wooden 
chest which had been brought from the attic, 
and after a few moments of diligent search- 
ing she triumphantly displayed a parcel 
which was carefully wrapped in many 
papers and securely tied with pink tape. 

That’s the bundle I’ve been huntin’ fer,” 
she said ; naow, Randy, we’ll see haow ye 
look in this. It’s a gaown yer great- 
aunt wore. Her name was Rosabelle Wes- 
ton, an’ they say she looked like a rose when 
she wore it,” 


36 


RANDTS GOOD TIMES 


Aunt Prudence patiently untied the 
knots, although Prue urged her to cut the 
strings. 

Here’s the scissors,” she said, you can 
cut the strings in a second, and it just takes 
hours to pick out the knots.” 

No use ’n bein’ impatient, Prue,” was 
the reply, and all the knots were slowly and 
carefully untied. 

Oh — 0 — 0 ! ” exclaimed Prue, when the 
wrapping was removed, and the quaint 
gown revealed in all its old-time loveliness. 

Randy’s eyes sparkled with delight. 

Oh, let me put it on. Aunt Prudence,” she 
said. 

The skirt was untrimmed. Evidently the 
material had been thought to be sufficiently 
beautiful without adornment. The grace- 
ful elbow sleeves were edged with soft lace, 
and the pointed waist was decorated with a 
kerchief which matched the lace sleeve 
trimmings. There were dainty mitts, and a 
pair of slippers which repeated the soft 
color of the gown, and a long scarf-like 


A COSTUME FESTIVAL 37 

drapery for the shoulders, which Aunt 
Prudence called a pelerine. 

Quickly Randy donned the pretty dress, 
and when the long mitts were drawn up to 
her elbows, and the soft lace kerchief 
knotted about her throat, she looked as if 
some pictured damsel had stepped from the 
frame of an old family portrait. 

Wal, Randy, that frock must have been 
made fer ye, ye look so well in it,” said 
Aunt Prudence. 

‘‘ There won’t be anybody there that ’ll 
look as nice as my Randy will, unless it’s 
me,” said Prue. I’m to be fine in the dress 
what Aunt Prudence has got for me.” 

Why, ye haven’t seen it yet,” said Mrs. 
Weston, laughing at the little girl’s assur- 
ance. 

Well, Aunt Prudence wouldn’t have a 
dress for me that wasn’t fine,” Prue re- 
plied. 

Bless ye, that’s true enough,” said Aunt 
Prudence, well pleased with Prue’s trust, so 
frankly expressed. 


38 


BRANDTS GOOD TIMES 


The pretty frock had been made for a 
child of seven, but Prue, although eight 
years old, was as small as most little girls 
of six or seven years, and the dress fitted 
as if made for her. The low neck and short 
sleeves were very becoming, and when Aunt 
Prudence tied the demure little cap under 
her chin, Prue was a most captivating 
lass. 

The skirt came well down to the fioor, and 
she bent eagerly forward to see the tiny 
slippers. Truly, Prue had never looked 
more winsome. 

Mrs. Weston and the Squire had decided 
to wear their wedding garments, and Aunt 
Prudence declared that she should wear a 
checked cotton gown with an immense cap 
elaborately ruffled. And when their cos- 
tumes had been chosen there were still a 
number of gowns left in the trunks and 
chests. These Mrs. Weston loaned to those 
of her friends who were not so fortunate as 
to possess sufliciently ancient garments for 
the festival. 


A COSTUMF FESTIVAL 


39 


So great had been the enthusiasm in 
the village that it was soon decided that the 
parsonage would be far too small to accom- 
modate the large number intending to be 
present, and when the evening arrived the 
vestry was filled with a host of quaintly 
costumed guests. 

Sandy McLeod, with his dear old Mar- 
garet and little Janie, appeared in ancient 
Scottish dress, and a picturesque group they 
made, while Reuben Jenks was arrayed in 
the costume of a young village squire of a 
hundred and fifty years ago, and his mother, 
in her gown of antique pattern, looked every 
inch a dame of the same period. Old Mr. 
Simpkins as a Revolutionary hero was a 
success, looking very brave in his uniform of 
buff and blue with shining brass buttons. 

The Babson girls were gowned alike, in 
frocks which their mother and her twin sis- 
ter had worn when they were girls, and 
Phoebe Small was fairly resplendent in a 
gown which had been worn by Grandma 
Small on many a gala occasion. 


40 


RANDY’S GOOD TIMES 


Of all the jolly party, not one, however 
gay her apparel, received more attention 
than Kandy Weston, and eagerly she en- 
deavored to make all whom she met as 
happy as herself. 

In and out among the groups of young 
and old she moved, closely followed by Prue, 
and she talked with those who chanced to be 
alone, or found an opportunity to introduce 
those who were sitting side by side as 
strangers, and her eyes grew brighter as 
she saw that all present were having a de- 
lightful evening. The children seemed 
filled with a spirit of perpetual motion, and 
in one end of the vestry they congregated, 
a quaint and motley little group. 

Molly Wilson, looking very shy and sweet 
in a gown of chintz, was standing alone in 
a corner looking wistfully at the other girls 
who were chatting gayly, and she was just 
wishing that she had sufficient courage to 
cross the room to join them, when Randy 
hastened toward her, her hand outstretched 
in greeting. 


A COSTUME FESTIVAL 


41 


It’s a long time since I’ve seen you, 
Molly,” she said, “ and you are looking too 
fine in your pretty gown to hide away in 
this corner. Come with me. I’d like every 
one to see you; and besides, there are two 
girls here to-night who are not very well 
acquainted in our village. They have been 
here but a few weeks, and they are so pleas- 
ant I think you will like to know them.” 

Oh, Kandy,” said Molly, that’s just 
what you did for me so long ago when I first 
came here to live. On that first day at 
school you came and spoke to me and 
made me at once forget that I was lonely.” 
And Molly, losing all shyness and thought of 
self, with her hand in Randy’s warm clasp, 
went forward to cordially greet the 
strangers. 

The festival was evidently a success, yet 
rarely does an entertainment, however care- 
fully planned, glide smoothly on without a 
jarring word or act to mar it. 

Josiah Boyden, selectman, and owner of 
much reel ” estate, had arrived in a suit of 


42 


BANDTS GOOD TIMES 


gray broadcloth, with high stock and pon- 
derous fob and seal. His pompous manner 
was always unpleasant, but the style of 
dress seemed to enhance the trait, and Hi 
Babson, who looked upon Mr. Boyden with 
extreme disfavor, frowned as he saw the 
gold fob dangling upon the portly figure. 

Thinks he’s a big man,” the small boy 
muttered, “ but he ain’t no bigger’n I’ll be 
when I’m a full-sized feller. He reported 
me oncet fer playin’ hookey. I’d like ter 
git even with him.” 

Then as a mischievous idea flashed 
through his mind he ejaculated, “ Cricky ! ” 
and at once laid plans for achieving his 
revenge. 

The quaint suit which he wore, together 
with his frowning face, made him look like 
a little old man, or in truth, like a dwarf in 
a particularly defiant mood, as he stood 
glowering and shaking his fist at Josiah 
Boyden’s retreating figure. 

‘‘What ye mad ’baout?” asked Johnny 
Buffum ; but Hi was not in a communicative 


A COSTUME FESTIVAL 


43 


mood, and without a look at Johnny, he 
turned toward Prue and soon was chatting 
as gayly as if no thought of mischief were 
in his mind. 

''Why should I tell Johnny?'' he 
thought, then contemptuously he added: 
" He always tells all he knows " ; which last 
was an absolute truth. 


CHAPTEE III 


JUST A WHISPER 

Beside Eunice Earnshaw stood a slender 
young man whose frank blue eyes followed 
Randy as she moved about the room, chat- 
ting pleasantly with all whom she met. 
They were brother and sister. Eunice had 
been delighted with Randy^s friendliness 
and, at the first opportunity, she hastened 
to introduce her brother. 

During the remainder of the evening Ar- 
thur Earnshaw and Reuben Jenks vied in 
their attention to Randy. 

Some of the older people were amused, 
but Jemima Babson confided to her sister 
Belinda that she thought it unseemly to 
have two young men a-talkin^ to a girl at 
once, to which after her usual manner 
Belinda replied : 

It may be unseemly, but I reckon ye^d 
44 



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JUST A WHISPER 45 

stand it with becomin’ patience ef ye had the 
chance.” 

Joel Simpkins had set his heart upon 
wearing the Revolutionary uniform in 
which his father was arrayed, but finally 
decided to wear a suit of striped nankeen 
in which his lanky figure looked even more 
spare than usual. 

His wife, whom every one had known as 
Janie Clifton, the village milliner, and 
whom but few remembered to address as 

Mrs. Simpkins,” wore a brown stuff gown 
over a buff petticoat, and looked unusually 
small beside her tall, slender husband. 

While the young girls were gayly talking 
and laughing, while the children skipped 
about in their quaint little costumes, wee 
Janie McLeod clung to Sandy, and watched 
the merry-making at a distance. 

Parson Spooner called the little lass to 
him and, taking her hand, he whispered a 
request. Janie fiushed with pleasure, and 
nodded an assent. 

It is a year since weVe heard your sweet 


46 RANDY’S GOOD TIMES 

voice, Janie, he had whispered to the child, 
and Sandy tells me your teacher is well 
pleased with your progress. Is he yet 
willing that you should sing for your 
friends? ’’ 

‘‘ I’ll sing for you gladly,” the little girl 
replied, the music maester told me yester- 
day that I might sing on Sunday at the kirk 
if you wish.” 

During her first lessons in vocal music 
her teacher had found it a difficult task to 
correct her accent and had to insist that she 
use only English words. One thing she 
could not remember, — the church was al- 
ways the kirk ” to the little Scotch lass. 

As Parson Spooner led Janie forward, the 
expectant crowd moved aside, until the 
child stood facing a half-circle of eager 
faces. Her flaxen hair was tied with a blue 
ribbon snood, and demurely she clasped her 
hands over her plaid skirt as she looked to- 
ward Sandy, hoping that he might choose 
the song which she should sing. 

Sing the new song wha’ ye just learned, 


JUST A WHISPER 47 

an’ then ^ The Last Kose o’ Summer ’ ; ye 
couldna do better,” he said. 

Then Janie sang the song which she had 
recently learned, and her voice was a sur- 
prise to all who listened, so round and full 
had it grown ; but they eagerly awaited the 
old song with which they were all familiar, 
for while they felt the sweetness of her voice, 
the first selection was a classical composi- 
tion, and therefore a trifle above their power 
of comprehension. 

They received the little solo graciously, 
however, and they listened with rapt atten- 
tion until the last note was sung. 

Ah, who would inhabit this drear world 
alone?” sang Janie with wondrous sweet- 
ness, and many eyes were wet as they re- 
membered that Janie would have been 
utterly alone but for the kindness of Sandy 
and Margaret McLeod who had given her a 
home, and the greatest pleasure she had ever 
known, — her music lessons. 

Child, your voice is a blessing,” said Par- 
son Spooner, and whenever you choose to 


48 RANDY’S GOOD TIMES 
favor us, you will find a place waiting for 
you in our choir.” 

“ 1^11 sing the coming Sunday,” Janie an- 
swered simply, as if she were receiving, 
rather than doing a favor. The young peo- 
ple gathered about Janie, and were making 
much of her when a stentorian voice startled 
them as it exclaimed : 

I’ve been robbed, feller citizens, robbed, 
do ye hear? an’ in this vestry, too! ” Then 
as the startled faces turned toward him, his 
VTath nearly choked him. Was it possible 
that he, Josiah Boyden, could be robbed 
and no one attempt to aid him? 

I’ve been robbed, I tell ye ! ” he shouted. 
« My great-gran’ ther’s watch has been 
pulled out er my pocket, fob an’ all, and the 
miscreant is at large ! ” 

After this burst of oratory, he sank into 
a chair, puffing like an engine, and between 
gasps vowing vengeance upon the rascal.” 

Old Mr. Simpkins bent over him, full of 
sympathy, but in doubt as to the cause of 
his distress. His cocked hat was awry, as 


JUST A WHISPER 


49 


with his hands upon his knees, he peered 
into his friend^s face. 

‘‘What is it, Josiah?’^ he questioned, 
“ what is it pesters ye? ’’ 

“ I Ve been rohhed ! ” was the reply, 
shouted, that Mr. Simpkins might hear it. 

“ Daubed ! ’’ repeated the deaf man in 
amazement; “why, haow did that happen? 
’Sides, I don’t see it. Yer coat an’ wes’cut is 
as fresh as fresh can be. There ain’t no 
kind er daub on it. Yer jest narvous, 
Josiah.” 

“ Eobbed, I tell ye ! ” shouted the exasper- 
ated scelectman, purple with rage, and 
pointing to his empty watch pocket. 

“ Oh,” said Mr. Simpkins, with an air of 
relief, “ ye’ve probably drapped it here- 
abouts an’ ye’ll find it soon, leastways ye 
will ef some one ain’t trod onto it.” 

This was doubtful comfort, but it was at 
least a ray of hope, and Josiah Boy den com- 
menced to search the room, aided by several 
small boys, the most eager one to help being 
Hi Babson. Occasionally a ripple of laugh- 


60 EANDTS GOOD TIMES 
ter caused him to turn a frowning face to- 
ward the frivolous one. He wondered that 
such an all-important person could be 
robbed, and any one present have sufficient 
lack of feeling to laugh or chatter. For a 
time the search continued, but the great old- 
fashioned timepiece, with its fob and seal, 
could not be found. 

Funny ! ” ejaculated little Hi Babson, 
scratching his head and assuming a medita- 
tive expression. Seems ’s if it mus^ be in 
this vestry somewheres.’^ 

Wal, sonny, ef iFs in this ’ere place, 
why don’t it come ter light? Answer me 
that ! ” said Josiah Boyden. 

But Hi had nothing to say, and the see- 
lectman glared suspiciously about at one 
and another of his friends until each felt 
himself to be more than half suspected of 
the theft, and a feeling of uneasiness per- 
vaded the assemblage. 

It’s a leetle strange that nobody should 
lose anything but me,” said Josiah Boyden, 
in an aggrieved tone. 


JU8T A WHISPER 


51 


I hope ye don’t mean ter say ye’d feel 
better pleased ef some one else lost some- 
thing,” said Jabez Brimblecom. 

^^Wal, why shouldn’t I?” snarled Boy- 
den. I do’no’s I ’dmire bein’ the only one 
to lose somethin’ val’able.” 

You’re not the only one,” said Kandy 
gently, for I’ve just missed my little man- 
tle, and I am very anxious to find it. It be- 
longed to my Great-aunt Rosabelle, and 
mother values it.” 

Hm ! What’s a piece er silk to my 
gran’ther’s timepiece, I’d like ter know?” 
was the rude answer, and Randy stepped 
back quickly, as if the man had struck 
her. 

Oh, Randy ! ” cried Prue, he’s horrid 
to speak so ! ” 

Hush-sh-sh ! ” said Randy, placing an 
arm about the little sister, but Prue has- 
tened to say : 

Don’t you wish Jotham was here? 
He’d hunt and hunt ’til he found it, 
wouldn’t he? 


52 


BANDTS GOOD TIAIES 


But Randy did not answer, for just at 
that moment Aunt Prudence came hurrying 
toward her, exclaiming : 

Ye’ve laid aside yer pelerine, Randy, an’ 
it sort er spoils the effect. Ye’d better put 
it on. What? Yer don’t mean ter say it 
ain’t in yer possession? Wal, this seems 
ter be an evenin’ fer disappearances. 

Fust it’s a watch, an’ the man it belongs 
ter nearly has a fit because it can’t be 
faound, then it’s a silk cape right off’n a 
girl’s shoulders, an’ the next it ’ll be aour 
seven senses we’ll be a-huntin’ fer, an’ some 
of us ain’t got enough ter spare. I move we 
go home ’fore we’re any wuss off.” 

Indeed the excitement over the lost arti- 
cles had dampened the ardor of their en- 
thusiasm. Only Philury Flanders pre- 
served her high spirits. 

Attired in a quaint gown and cap, a cos- 
tume worn long years ago by an ancestor, an 
Finglish dairymaid, she had been much ad- 
mired. 

As she led the way up the road toward 


JUST A WHISPER 53 

home, she sang a little jingle, as usual of 
her own composition: 

“ Fust it's a watch, an’ then it’s a cape, 

From losin’ things there’s no escape, 

I’ll say ‘ good night ’ an’ go ter bed, 

Fer fear I yet may lose my head.” 

‘‘ Philury Flanders ! 1^11 inform ye iPs 

no joke ter lose things that are heirlooms,” 
said Aunt Prudence, her voice betraying 
annoyance. “ I do believe ye’d sing under 
any sarcumstances.” 

“No, I wouldn’t,” Philury answered. 
“ There was one time I shan’t ever fergit, ’n’ 
that’s the time I was busy churnin’. ’Twas in 
the little dairy pa had built daown by the 
spring. I had the churn set on two planks, 
an’ I was er workin’ the dasher like all- 
possessed, when my little brother Jake ran 
up behind me an’ shouted ^ Boo ! ’ right in 
my ear. I stepped backwards off’n the edge 
er the plank an’ sot daown in the spring. 
The churn tipped over, an’ the cream, with 
the butter jes’ cornin’, spilled out in my 
lap. I shan’t say what I said to that little 


54 RANDTS GOOD TIMES 
imp, fer I love him dearly fer all his mis- 
chief, but I will say I didn^t laugh, nor 
sing.^’ 

It seemed a pity that the pleasant even- 
ing should have come to so abrupt an end- 
ing, and many there were who felt annoyed 
that Josiah Boyden should have been able 
to mar their pleasure. It was impossible to 
ignore his grumbling. Loudly he made his 
lamentations until Jabez Brimblecom lost 
his patience. 

“Josiah,^’ he said, ‘‘yeVe talked long 
’nough ^baout the watch. YeVe driv most 
everybody away with yer snarlin\ Naow 
as ye’ve upsot the sociable, the best ye kin do 
is ter hev a search ter-morrer when there 
ain’t nobody ’raound, an’ then ef the watch 
ain’t forthcomin’, try an’ see ’f the law kin 
help ye.” 

Half ashamed of his disagreeable behavior, 
and wholly unhappy because of his loss, 
Josiah Boyden took his hat, put it on and 
pulled it down about his ears, grasped his 
stout cane, and tramped along toward home. 


JUST A WHISPER 55 

at every step rapping the ground smartly 
with the walking stick. 

What a merry host had gathered for the 
parish sociable arrayed in their quaintest, 
and anticipating a unique pleasure! The 
greater part of the evening had been delight- 
ful, but the guests had taken their home- 
ward way, unhappy in the thought that 
while Josiah Boyden had accused no one, he 
had suspected all present and had glowered 
upon each impartially. 

It is not pleasant to be suspected even if 
one knows one’s self to be innocent, and 
Jabez Brimblecom remarked to his wife as 
they were driving along the road toward 
home: 

’Twas pesky tryin’ ; — g’lang, Mandy ! — 
an’ ’tain’t much wonder that he felt per- 
nickety, but he needn’t feel called ter make 
us all — g’lang, will ye? — feel like knaves 
an’ villians — g’lang, what’s got inter 
ye?” 

Jabez’ remarks were intended for his wife 
and the horse, and he considered Mrs. 


56 


RANDT8 GOOD TIMES 


Brimblecom and the mare, Mandy, amply 
able to decide which were intended for 
each. 

At the table, he invariably mixed his con- 
versation with demands for food, but his 
good wife, used to this peculiarity, could 
fully understand his meaning, when a 
stranger would have been completely puz- 
zled. 

Where was Jotham Potts ter-night? — 
git up there, — he^s alius ter be caounted on, 
wherever Randy is, — whaow ! ye needn’t feel 
called ter fall asleep in the road, er go like 
time, — an’ I missed him. He’s a young 
chap I like, — g’lang ! ” 

His father wanted he should do a busi- 
ness arrant fer him, daown ter Boston, an’ 
as it couldn’t no ways be put off, he jest had 
ter miss the sociable,” said Mrs. Brimble- 
com. 

He’s a likely young man, — g’lang, 
Mandy, — he’s goin’ back ter Harvard come 
October, ’n’ I’d as likely as not b’lieve he’ll, 
— ^git, will ye! — be at the head er the hull 


JUST A WHISPER 


o7 


place. Here we be/^ he concluded, as they 
drew up at their own gate, and the mare, 
Mandy, drooped her head as if then and 
there intending to take a nap. 

In her chamber Kandy stood long before 
her tiny mirror, gazing at the reflected flg- 
ure, not lost in admiration of her pretty self, 
but studying, rather, the details of her 
quaint costume. 

Prue had dropped to sleep as soon as her 
curly head had touched the pillow, but 
Randy was sure that she had never felt less 
sleepy. The candle flickered in the light 
breeze from the window, making the girl in 
the mirror now sharply distinct against a 
shadowy background, now indeflnite as the 
flame lowered with a sudden gust of air; 
then, as the flame blazed again, the light 
upon the soft old silk, gleamed with new 
lustre. 

I wonder if Great-aunt Rosabelle was 
much like me, or rather, if I resemble her as 
strongly as Aunt Prudence seems to think. 


58 RANDTS GOOD TIMES 
To-night I felt as if I were truly she, and 
I caught myself wondering if she laughed as 
gayly as I did, or if she were far more digni- 
fied.’’ 

These thoughts were flitting through 
Randy’s mind as she untied her lace ker- 
chief, when suddenly she turned and has- 
tened toward the window. Surely some one 
had called her. 

Randy ! Randy ! ” 

Again the whispered call which had first 
startled her. She looked from the window, 
but could see no one. She had had no 
thought of fear when she had first heard 
her name softly spoken, but as she stood at 
the window waiting to hear the call re- 
peated, no sound broke the stillness, and a 
nervous terror suddenly possessed her. 

Who could have spoken so softly to her, 
and if the person really wished to see or 
talk with her, why was he now silent and 
why did the moonlight reveal no waiting 
figure beneath the window? 

Hastily she snuffed the candle, and in the 


JUST A WmSFUE 


69 


moonlight removed her costume, laying the 
dress, the kerchief, and the pretty mitts up- 
on a low chest. Then creeping gently in 
beside Prue, she tried to sleep, but although 
she closed her eyes and sought to keep her 
mind busy with sleep-inducing thoughts, 
the memory of the whispered call caused 
uneasiness, half fear, half wonder, so that 
when morning dawned she had not slept at 
all. 

Little Prue was still sleeping when Kandy 
arose, and, dressing quickly, slipped down- 
stairs to the kitchen where Mrs. Weston 
with Philury and Aunt Prudence were bus- 
ily preparing the morning meal. 

Ye^re up early,” said Philury. Why, 
Mis^ Weston! Look at Randy! She^s as 
pale as if she’d seen a ghost.” 

Why, Randy, ye do look tuckered,” said 
Mrs. Weston, ‘^did ye git so tired at the soci- 
able that ye couldn’t rest? ” 

“ Not so very tired,” Randy answered, 
but I could not sleep last night.” Then 
she told of standing before her mirror, and 


60 E ANDY’S GOOD TIMES 

of the voice which sounded as if directly be- 
neath her window. 

But when I looked out, the moon, which 
had been behind a cloud, came out, making 
everything as light as day, but not a person 
was in sight, and although I stood there 
listening intently, I heard no sound. You 
will laugh at me, but the stillness frightened 
me more than the whispering voice,’’ she 
concluded. 

I don’t think ye’re to be laughed at,” 
said Mrs. Weston, ’twas ’nough to startle 
any one ; but why didn’t ye speak ter father 
’stead er stayin^ in yer rOom an’ tremblin’ 
so ye couldn’t sleep?” 

It’s like Kandy to brave it out alone an’ 
bother no one,” said Aunt Prudence. 

“ Ef ye’d been less brave and spoke ter 
me,” said Philury, ‘‘ I’d a poked my head 
out the winder an’ given a war-whoop that 
would er scared ’em inter the middle er next 
week.” 

Oh, don’t call me brave,” said Randy. 
‘‘ It is true I did not wish to disturb father, 


JUST A WHISPER 61 

but I am willing to admit that when I re- 
membered that to reach your chamber door 
I must pass the little side door which is just 
beneath my window, I felt that I would 
rather stifle my fear and remain in my room, 
than to leave it. It is very odd that I should 
have been so frightened,” , she continued, 
for you know, you all know, that I am not 
usually timid.” 

I don’t think strange er yer bein’ 
scared,” said Mr. Weston, who had entered 
while they were talking and now stood in 
the doorway ; I only wish ye’d spoken ter 
me, fer I don’t think well er havin’ loiterers 
on the place that ain’t got nothin’ better 
ter do than ter go er praowlin’ ’raound, 
scarin’ women folks ter pieces.” 

For many nights thereafter Mr. Weston, 
with two of his farm hands, kept silent 
watch for suspicious characters about the 
place, but no one appeared, and at last the 
vigil was abandoned and the matter half 
forgotten. 


CHAPTER IV 


MUSIC HATH CHARMS ” 

The long road to the Centre was shaded 
by giant elms and maples, and their leafy 
branches meeting overhead formed a cool 
green arch under which to drive to church. 

Snowfoot jogged along the way as if 
aware that Mr. Weston had started unusu- 
ally early, and Prue shrilly urged her father 
to use the whip. 

Please poke Snowfoot,’’ she cried, not 
’nough to hurt her, but just so she won’t 
stop.” ' 

Mr. Weston smiled at the little girl’s 
eagerness. 

Ye don’t actually want ter git there in 
a hurry, do ye? ” questioned Philury, be- 
cause, by the feelin’ er the sun, I guess it’s 
safe ter say the meetin’ haouse ’ll be warm 
’nough ’thout a fire ter-day, ef ’tis Septem- 
63 


MUSIC HATH CHABMS^^ 63 
ber. My! But it feels like July, an’ this 
ere dress is hefty.” 

Why, Philury Flanders ! They wouldn’t 
have a fire in the church in July,” said Prue. 

Well, ’tain’t July,” replied Philury, 
it’s September, an’ a bilin’ hot September, 
I say.” 

Philury had just received her new fall 
gown from the village dressmaker and mil- 
liner, Mrs. Janie Clifton Simpkins, and 
although Sunday proved to be unusually 
warm, she wore it, because, as she said, sbe 
had detarmined ter,” so while Kandy and 
little Prue were comfortable in muslin 
frocks, Philury seethed in her new woolen 
gown, or as she expressed it, sizzled.” 

They were indeed early at church, and 
while Mr. Weston was placing Snowfoot in 
the carriage shed, Mrs. Weston, with Randy 
beside her, took her place in the family pew, 
followed by Prue and Philury. 

The hot breeze blew in at the open win- 
dows, and it seemed upon mischief bent, for 
it rustled the leaves of a half-open hymn 


64 


RANDY’8 GOOD TIMES 


book, twitched Mrs. Hodgkins’ veil, and set 
her ribbons fluttering ; played with the vine 
which swung over the window, and left 
flushed cheeks warmer for each caress. 

Randy w^atched the green branches as 
they danced in the breeze, and wondered if 
it w^ere wicked to wish one’s self seated out 
there in the flickering sunlight and shadow. 

Prue brandished an immense palm leaf 
fan which she had found in the book-rack, 
and so wildly did she w^ave it that Randy 
laid a gently restraining hand upon her 
arm. 

I have to fan /lard,” said Prue, ’cause 
I’m trying to cool this whole pew full of 
folks, ’sides some of those behind us.” 

“ But you must be careful,” Randy re- 
plied, while she endeavored to hide her 
amusement, or you will surely hit some one 
with that fan.” 

But, Randy,” was the answer, they’d 
lots rather be hit once in a while than roast, 
wouldn’t they?” 

Randy decided to refrain from further 


MUSIC HATH CHARMS 


65 


argument, and Prue swung the great fan 
recklessly back and forth, up and down, 
with benevolent desire to cool the entire 
family, until with a wild upward movement 
she lost her grasp of the handle and it sailed 
lightly over into the pew in front. 

“ Why ee ! ’’ exclaimed Prue. 

Kind er restless, ain’t ye? ” questioned 
the woman into whose lap the fan had 
dropped. Her voice was querulous and her 
expression unpleasant as she returned the 
fan. 

Prue, quite abashed, received it in silence; 
then, as the woman turned away, the little 
girl looked up at Randy as she whispered: 

“ What made her cross? I didn’t drop my 
fan a purpose.” 

No one ever looked unkindly at Prue, and 
her lip quivered as she thought of the harsh 
voice and the rude manner. 

Randy placed her arm about Prue and 
drew her closer. 

Never mind,” she whispered, we will 
put aside the fan now, for soon we shall for- 


66 RANDTS GOOD TIMES 

get how warm it is while we listen to the 

music/^ 

Is Janie truly going to sing? ques- 
tioned Priie, in a loud whisper. 

Randy nodded assent, and Prue leaned 
contentedly against her, while she looked 
earnestly at each arrival in the choir and 
hoped that Janie would soon appear. 

The old church wasn’t never designed 
by no archTect feller/’ Josiah Boy den often 
declared ; “ ’twas jest built ; huilt^ I tell ye, 
from cellar ter steeple, an’ no plans was 
thought nec’sary.” 

No one who had ever seen the church 
could, for a moment, have doubted Josiah’s 
statement. It had never occurred to the 
parishioners that an utter lack of ornament 
made the interior of the church barren and 
unattractive. They had been nurtured in 
a faith which considered decoration and 
frivolity to be synonymous ; whose followers 
were apt stoutly to maintain that an honest 
and earnest church-goer should have eyes 
and ears for naught but the minister; but 


MUSIC HATH CHARMS 67 
one innocent dissenter there was from so 
stern a creed. 

During her winter visit to Boston Randy 
had feasted her eyes each Sunday upon the 
warm coloring of the interior of the beau- 
tiful church which she had attended; had 
luxuriated upon its soft crimson cushions; 
had basked in the warm radiance which 
came slanting through the gorgeous win- 
dows ; had thought of the bare little church 
at home and wished that in some simple 
way it might be made to appear more home- 
like and cheery. 

Even yet she could remember the tones 
of the great organ, now deep and sonorous, 
now sweet and tender, as with a world of 
melody it accompanied the choir in anthems 
of praise. 

After the prayer. Parson Spooner read a 
number of notices of meetings to be held 
during the week, and Randy was just won- 
dering if it would be possible to keep her 
mind upon the sermon, when Prue nudged 
her violently. 


68 


RANDY’S GOOD TIMES 


“ Can I poke that lady whaCs just in front 
of me? She’s going to sleep,” she whis- 
pered. 

Of course not,” Randy answered, lay- 
ing her hand over Prue’s restless ones. 

But she’s nodding just awful, and Par- 
son Spooner ’ll see her if some one don’t 
walce her,” urged Prue. 

Hush sh ! ” whispered Randy. 

I admonish you to be earnest ; I urge 
you to be vigilant ; I would that while there 
is work to be done, not one should sleep,” 
said the preacher. 

“ There ! J ust hear what he says,” cried 
Prue in great excitement, and she’s just 
as sound asleep as ” 

Oh, for a voice that, trumpet-like, 

should speak in clarion tones ” 

The good parson’s voice had risen higher 
and as he brought his fat fist down upon 
the pulpit cushion with a resounding bang, 
the sleeper awoke with a start, ejaculating : 

Good massy on me! ” 

The parson’s eloquence drowned her 


MU8IC HATH CHARM8 69 
startled cry, so that only those immediately 
about her had heard her remark. 

Kandy endeavored to smother her laugh- 
ter, but Prue considered that the parson had 
directed his admonition toward his drowsy 
parishioner. 

Didn’t I say I ought to wake her ’fore 
Parson Spooner had to? ” she asked. 

The woman thus rudely awakened sat 
sternly erect, as if to persuade those about 
her that she had not been sleeping ; that she 
had merely been indulging in a day dream, 
and Prue, her anxiety regarding the woman 
relieved, turned her attention toward the 
choir. 

Mrs. Grey had offered her services as 
organist, and with much tenderness she 
played the opening chords of the prelude. 

Randy’s lips parted, and she leaned 
eagerly forward. How well she remem- 
bered the strains of infinite sweetness! 
How clearly in her memory had remained 
the scene in the city church when, for the 
first time, she had heard that loving, im- 


70 


EANDrS GOOD TIMES 


ploring solo, so tenderly pleading for mercy 
at its commencement, so triumphant its clos- 
ing passages. 

It was a fine singer whose rich contralto 
voice had filled the great church with 
melody. Could little Janie sing it, really 
sing it? 

Janie stood beside the organ, her sensitive 
face showing that she was eager to sing. 

A ray of sunlight found its way through 
the foliage, and in at the window where, like 
a halo, it rested upon her fiaxen hair. Her 
hat hung by its long blue ribbons from her 
arm. The little Scotch lass had confided to 
Sandy that she believed that she must sing 
with uncovered head if she wished to be 
blessed. 

Mrs. Grey played the opening measures 
of the accompaniment. Then sweet and 
full and clear rang out the words of earnest 
supplication. Was it indeed a child who 
was singing? 

Every eye in the church rested upon the 
childish figure and demure little face, and 


MUSIC HATH CHARMS^' 71 

old and young leaned forward lest one sweet 
note might be lost. 

“ 0 Holy Father, hear our prayer, 

Thou who art mercy. Thou who art love.” 

Bless the bairn ! ” murmured Sandy, and 
Margaret whispered: 

The saints preserve her ! ” 

“ O be Thou near us, O never leave us, 

Our hope and trust, 0 Lord, are on Thee stayed.” 

Ah, the exquisite sweetness of the voice! 
Randy felt that great though the singer had 
been whom she had first heard singing the 
“ O Salutaris,’’ which Sterns had so tenderly 
written, her rendering had lacked the ap- 
pealing quality of Janie’s art. 

The child’s face grew radiant at the clos- 
ing lines, and, like a violin’s deepest tones, 
she sang the measures which completed the 
melody : 

“ Hear, oh, hear our prayer.” 

The matchless charm of the sweet voice 
had thrilled all who heard it; the gentle 


72 RANDY’S GOOD TIMES 
little Scotch lass had moved them more 
deeply than they would have cared to admit, 
and one there was whose hard old heart 
melted under the spell of the melody, and 
forgetting a grudge which he had long cher- 
ished, arose stiffly from his seat at the close 
of the service and turning, offered his hand 
to the neighbor to whom he had not spoken 
for years. 

The hand was warmly grasped, and its 
firm pressure returned, and the two old men 
who in their youth had been comrades, left 
the church together. They were happy in 
the renewal of their friendship, and they 
blessed the child whose sweet voice had 
softened their hearts. 

They had spent their lives upon adjoining 
farms, and each had held the other in loving 
regard, until David Horton believed that 
Nathan Thornton was encroaching upon his 
land ; that he was deliberately building his 
stone wall beyond the dividing line. Later 
when a surveyor proved that the wall was 
exactly where it should be, David would not 


^^MU81C HATH CHARM8’^ 73 
apologize for his hasty words or unjust ac- 
cusation, and Nathan was too proud to ask 
for the friendship of the man who had 
charged him with dishonesty and would not 
admit that he was in the wrong. 

They had secretly longed for the old 
friendly intercourse, yet for years they had 
lived side by side without a nod of recog- 
nition, without a kindly word. Now once 
more they walked the sunny road together, 
and a quivering note in the voice of each 
told of their great joy. 

It^s good ter hear yer voice, David,’^ said 
old Nathan gently. 

And the smile on yer face cheers me,’’ 
David replied. 

Ah, that child’s voice,” said Nathan, it 
moved me so that in another minute I would 
er stretched my hand ter ye, David.” 

’S I’m most ter blame, I’m glad I offered 
mine fust,” David answered ; and Sandy Mc- 
Leod, looking after them, remarked dryly: 

It’s an ill wind that blaws na ane ony 
gude, is it na? 


74 


BANDTS GOOD TIMES 


“ Weel, it’s a great voice that could melt 
a couple o’ stanes like the twa yander, a- 
rollin’ up hill taegither. Our Janie’s sing- 
ing wad make a bad mon gude, an^ a gude 
mon better/^ he concluded, to which Parson 
Spooner, who had overheard the speech, re- 
plied : 

‘‘ I’m of the same opinion, Sandy, and I’ll 
add that I am not sure that even an excel- 
lent sermon would as firmly hold the inter- 
est and attention of an audience.” 

Behind the church, upon an old mossy 
stump, sat Hi Babson. 

The expression upon the little dark face 
was disconsolate; his attitude bespoke de- 
jection. At intervals he rubbed his eyes 
with his grimy knuckles, and it was plainly 
evident that wild, mischief-loving Hi was 
not in his usually hilarious frame of mind. 

Was it possible that the music had 
wrought its tender infiuence upon the incor- 
rigible Hi? 

A very queer sound escaped his lips; it 


^^MU81G HATH CHAEAIS^^ 75 
was strangely suggestive of tears, and at 
that moment Johnny Buffum appeared 
around the corner of the church. A moment 
he hesitated; then advancing cautiously he 
looked at the drooping figure and bent head 
of the boy whom he feared, then he spoke: 

“ What^s the matter, Hi?^^ 

Hi, who had not heard his approach, 
turned slowly, and without removing his 
hands, which for the moment covered his 
face, he peeped through his fingers. 

Little Johnny gained courage. 

What’s the matter. Hi? ’’ he repeated. 
Still receiving no answer he ventured fur- 
ther. 

W^hat ye sorry fer? ” he said. 

Hi turned fiercely upon his questioner. 
“ I ain’t sorry fer nothin’ naow/^ he 
screamed. 

“ I — I thought mebbe yer was,” said 
Johnny, retreating a few steps. 

Wal, a while ago the music made me 
feel kinder queer, but I ain’t sorry naow, 
don’t ye believe it, ’ceptin’ I’m sorry I didn’t 


76 


RANDY’S GOOD TIMES 


lick ye Sat’day fer bein’ a tell-tale, an’ ’s I 
feel some different ’n 1 did, I guess I’ll do it 
naow.” 

Hi made a rush toward the small boy. 
All his penitence had vanished ; he had even 
forgotten that it was Sunday. With a 
frightened shriek, Johnny made his escape. 

Hi followed closely, but upon seeing the 
parson and a few lingering parishioners, 
he at once remembered the day and the 
place, and slunk along the road toward 
home, never bestowing a glance upon 
Johnny, who kept closely beside his father 
for protection. 

It had been a long sermon, and the heat 
in the little church had been oppressive, yet 
the charm of Janie’s singing had so de- 
lighted her audience that they would gladly 
have remained longer if the little girl would 
have continued to sing. But when the 
music had ceased, when after chatting in the 
doorway and lingering for a few last words 
upon the church steps, they turned their 


MUSIC HATH CHARMS’^ 


77 


faces homeward, they realized how very 
warm a day it had been, how hot the sun, 
how long the dusty road. 

There were many who rode, but some 
there were who felt that their horses must 
be reserved for work upon the farm, and 
these trudged all the way to church and 
home again. One of these was old Matthias 
Birch; old Birchrod the boys called him, 
partly because of his thin, spare figure, but 
more because he hated boys, and they re- 
turned the feeling with interest. 

As he walked along the road he scorned 
the shady spots, deliberately choosing the 
sunniest parts; not because he did not feel 
the heat, but because he chose to assume 
that he did not mind it. 

His patient, weary-looking wife lagged 
far behind him, endeavoring to keep in the 
shade ; but there were long sunny stretches 
where open fields were on either side of the 
road and not an overhanging tree to afford 
a bit of shade. 

She dared not pause to rest, lest she might 


78 


EANDT8 GOOD TIME8 


receive a sharp reprimand, but she looked 
off across the fields where, against the sky, 
the hills seemed like a row of purple tem- 
ples, their peaks, pagoda like, pointing to- 
ward heaven; and, was the sigh which es- 
caped her lips an expression of a wild long- 
ing for the rest which heaven promised and 
which earth did not afford? 

It was often whispered in the village that, 
had Mrs. Birch been less patient, her hus- 
band would have been more lenient ; but she 
had ever been timid, fearful of offending, 
cowering at a harsh word, cringing at a 
frown from the man who had promised to 
love and cherish her. 

Matthias Birch considered his wife’s atti- 
tude most proper, and at all times endeav- 
ored to keep her in what he termed her 
place.” 

Vigorously he marched down the road, 
when it occurred to him that he did not hear 
his wife’s footsteps behind him. Turning 
sharply about, he looked with lifted eye- 
brows and a well feigned surprise at the 


MU 810 BATE CHARMS'^ 79 
stooping figure and lagging step of his 
wife. 

Seems to me ye git more ’n^ more poky/^ 
he remarked. “ ^Tain^t hot ^nough ter talk 
’baout, Keziah.” 

Oh, Matthias, I think I can^t no ways 
walk ter church Another Sunday,’’ she an- 
swered, and as she spoke she leaned against 
a tree, the first which she had reached after 
a long stretch of sunny road. 

It’s cornin’ cooler weather naow,” 
said Matthias, an’ mebbe ye won’t 
mind.” 

But we’ve got horses, and the old car- 
riage stands in the shed. We never use it,” 
said the woman. 

Horses cost money was the reply, an’ 
I shan’t work ’em Sunday after havin’ 
’em work all the week.” 

Just at this moment a wagon passed 
them, when suddenly its driver, Jabez 
Brimblecom, pulled on the reins and 
stopped. 

“ Hello ! Clean tuckered aout, Mis’ 


80 


RANDY’S GOOD TIMES 


Birch? Jest git in, there’s plenty er room 
side er Mis’ Brimblecom, an’ I’ll take ye 
home.” 

Matthias Birch was angry and, at the 
same time, a bit chagrined. He could make 
his wife walk when she was scarcely able 
to do so, but he did not like to have the 
neighbors think him cruel. 

I seem ter hev ter let the critters rest 
come Sunday,” he said, ‘‘seein’ as I work 
’em the hull week.” 

Don’t it sometimes ’cur ter ye that yer 
wife takes a few steps durin’ the week? I 
vaow I hev feelin’ fer the boss, but I’m a 
leetle apt ter be a trifle more tender toward 
Mis’ Brimblecom. G’lang, Mandy,” he 
called to the mare, then looking back at 
Matthias, he remarked : 

I’d er axed yer ter ride, tew, but I know 
ye’d rather walk er Sunday ; I’ve heered ye 
say so. G’lang! Git! Pick up yer feet, 
Mandy! Ye’d ’nough sight rather draw 
er kerridge Sunday than er hay tedder on er 
week daj^, hey?” 


MUSIC HATH CHARMS 81 
Mandy tossed her mane and took a few 
antic-steps. 

That’s er tasty gait,” chuckled Jabez. 

Mandy’s idees an’ my notions jest agrees, 
I vum.” 

Jabez was triumphant, and fully enjoyed 
Matthias’ discomfiture, but Mrs. Birch, 
while truly thankful for her ride, was very 
nervous as to the reception which Mat- 
thias would give her when she reached 
home. 

I hope he won’t be too put aout,” she 
whispered tremulously to gentle Mrs. Brim- 
blecom. I s’pose I hadn’t ought ter 
showed I was tired, but I couldn’t seem ter 
help it. I was tuckered aout last night an’ 
I wa’n’t no ways rested this morning. I 
thought ’twas jest wicked ter stay away 
from church, but I guess I wasn’t fit ter 
walk, an’ Matthias don’t b’lieve in ridin’ on 
the Sabbath.” 

Wal, he needn’t ride on the Sabbath,” 
remarked Jabez, “he kin ride on er ker- 
riage seat. G’lang, Mandy ! Blest ef I 


RANDY^S GOOD TIMES 

don^t believe he^ll let yer ride after this, Mis’ 
Birch.” 

And Jabez was right. As long as Mat- 
thias Birch could do an unkind act and have 
it unnoticed, he would do it; indeed, he 
would persist in doing it until detected. 
Then he would retract as if it had just oc- 
curred to him to do so. 

He was a cold, calculating man, possessed 
of little feeling, and less kindness, but he 
had a bit of pride. Thus it was when Jabez 
drove up to the gate in front of the Birch 
farm, Matthias stood waiting to greet them. 
He had taken a short cut across lots in 
order to reach home in time to receive 
them. His stern face wore a forced 
smile. 

Thank ye, much Obliged ter ye fer 
bringin’ Keziah home,” he said, as he as- 
sisted his wife to alight. 

“ I didn’t reelize haow tuckered she was,” 
he continued ; then looking at his wife, whose 
gentle face plainly showed her anxiety, 
while her lip quivered, and she nervously 


MUSIC HATH CHARMS** 83 
twisted and untwisted the glove which she 
had removed, he said : 

‘‘ Don’t ruin them gloves, Keziah, ’n’ don’t 
be narvons. I think we’ll ride ter church 
arter this ef ye’ve sot yer mind on’t. I’d 
’nough sight ruther walk fer myself, but 
ye’ll be ’fraid ter drive, so I’ll ride beside 
ye ’n’ stand it the best I’m able ter.” 


CHAPTER V 


A HASTY DEPARTURE 

The burning heat of the morning had 
passed, and the breeze which swayed the 
vines about the open door was cool and re- 
freshing. Randy sat by the window in the 
cheerful sitting room, and the afternoon 
sunlight touched the curling ends of her 
bright hair and gilded the leaves of the book 
which lay upon her lap. 

A tiny bird sang upon a low-hanging 
branch, turning his little head this way and 
that, swinging and balancing, the twig quiv- 
ering beneath his tiny body. 

Again he sang, adding a few trills, and 
little liquid, warbling notes as if trying to 
attract Randy’s attention. 

The charm of the story seemed enhanced 
by the sunbeam which stole in at the win- 
dow. It was one of the many choice books 
84 


A HASTY DEPARTURE 85 

which Helen Dayton had sent her, one 
which she always found entertaining, 
but the day was so beautiful, the fields so 
calm and sunny, the river so bright as it 
wound its way through the valley, that 
often Randy paused in her reading to look 
out upon the lovely scene, and wonder if in 
all the world there was a spot more genu- 
inely charming. 

Prue sat in the doorway with Tabby and 
the two kittens. Fluffy JTotham and Orlando 
Steubenreiser, and she appeared to be giving 
the old cat much valuable advice. 

Now, Tabby,^^ she said, you’d ought to 
know by this time that it’s naughty to play 
on Sunday, so Orlando Steubenreiser and 
Fluffy Jotham must be very naughty, and 
you ought to make ’em stop. Just see ’em. 
Tabby ! Orlando Steubenreiser’s rolling 
over and over, and he looks as if he was 
laughing; and Fluffy Jotham is just racing 
’round and ’round, chasing that butterfly 
just as if it wasn’t Sunday. Want me to 
tell Parson Spooner how those kittens act? 


86 


BANDY’8 GOOD TIMES 


Well, then, you just speak to ’em, Tabby, 
and tell ’em to mind. They mt^sthave some 
digumty on Sunday.” 

Aunt Prudence came bustling into the 
room, her stiffly starched gown rustling, her 
new shoes squeaking. There was an air 
about Aunt Prudence which always im- 
pressed one with the idea that every article 
which she wore was either new or stiffly 
starched. Even her hair seemed fastened in 
place with something more effective than 
hairpins. Prue once asked her if it were 
glued, but there was no limit to what Prue 
might ask, and usually hers were the most 
unexpected of questions. 

There’s some folks coming up the road, 
Kandy; most likely comp’ny, and yer ma 
and pa hev jest stepped over ter Deacon 
Lawton’s, the deacon bein’ a little peaked, 
an’ wantin’ ter talk ter the Squire ’baout 
some church business. Look aout the win- 
der an’ see’f ye can tell who they be, Kandy. 
I can’t see so far,” said Aunt Prudence, and 
Kandy looked, but before she could an- 


A HASTY DEPARTURE 87 

nounce the names of the two friends who 
were now rapidly approaching, Prue flew in 
at the door exclaiming: 

'^Jotham’s coming! Jotham and the 
teacherman whaPs been staying to his 
house.’’ 

“It is Jotham, and Professor Harden with 
him,” said Randy. “ Do stay and meet 
them. Aunt Prudence,” she continued, as 
she saw that she was about to leave the 
room. 

“ Why, Randy, I’ll be willin’ ’nough ter 
see Jotham Potts in this gaown because it’s 
span clean, but I dew wish I’d kept on my 
Sunday gaown, ’stead er changing it after 
church. I would have, ef I thought ter 
meet that young college chap that they say 
knows everything, an’ has traveled all over 
creation.” 

Randy was amused, and with a merry 
twinkle in her eye she said : 

“ But Jotham is a college chap now. Aunt 
Prudence.” 

“ He was born an’ brought up in the coun- 


88 


RANDY’S GOOD TIMES 


try, Randy,” was the reply, “ an’ knows a 
caliker gaown when he sees it.” 

Well, Professor Marden says that he 
was a country boy, and if he knows every- 
thing, it’s possible that he, too, may know 
a calico gown.” 

“ Randy, ye’re gittin’ flippant,” said Aunt 
Prudence, but her eyes were laughing and 
her smile betokened no rebuke. 

Randy hastened toward the open door to 
greet her friends, and when they had 
entered, presented Aunt Prudence, who re- 
ceived them in a manner characteristic of 
her quaint self. 

“ I’m always glad ter see ye, Jotham,” 
she said cordially ; an’ this is yer teacher. 
Professor Marden, did ye say? Wal, young 
man, I’m proud to know ye. Randy’s often 
told me of yer knowledge, an’ I must say I 
admire yer smartness, bein’ able ter teach at 
the college. I imagine ye hev ter be pretty 
cute ter manage a lot er chaps pretty nigh 
ter yer own age.” 

The young professor laughed gayly at 


A HASTY DEPARTURE 89 

Aunt Prudence^s frankly expressed admir- 
ation, and assured her that the boys under 
his care, especially Jotham, were disposed 
to be tractable and studious. 

“ Yer some acquainted with Randy’s 
friend. Miss Dayton, ain’t ye? She’s what 
I call a lovely girl; our Randy worships 
her.” 

Randy and Jotham smiled at Aunt Pru- 
dence’s question and Professor Harden 
blushed violently as he said : 

Helen Dayton is indeed charming, and 
in worshiping her, Randy is following in 
the footsteps of all who are so fortunate as 
to know her.” 

Aunt Prudence’s sharp eyes saw the color 
deepen in the young man’s cheeks, and she 
realized that his voice was a bit unsteady, 
although his manner was calm. 

‘‘ That’s the way the wind blows, is it? ” 
she whispered softly as Professor Harden 
turned to answer a question which Randy 
had asked. Aunt Prudence was greatly in- 
terested in Jotham’s plans, which he, with 


90 


RANDT8 GOOD TIMES 


his tntor^s aid, was making for the winter, 
and Prue, leaning against her knee, listened 
eagerly to every detail. 

“ When are you going back to the big, 
big school, Jotham?” she asked. 

I leave to-night, Prue,^^ he said, “ and 
IVe come to say ‘ good-bye ’ to Randy and 
you.” 

“ Oh, why are you always going, 
Jotham?” said the little girl. We miss 
you just awful, don’t we, Randy? ” 

I never like to say ^ good-bye,’ to a 
friend,’^ Randy answered. 

But I ’specially mind saying it to 
Jotham, don’t you?” Prue persisted. 

It was Randy’s turn to blush, and Aunt 
Prudence, suddenly feeling apprehensive 
for the welfare of the kittens, turned Prue’s 
attention, thus relieving Randy from im- 
mediately answering the pointed ques- 
tion. 

Your kittens, Prue, are runnin’ right 
straight toward the well,” she said ; the 
wooden kiver’s off ’n’ you’d better ketch ’em 


A HASTY DEPARTURE 91 

bring ^em back, ’less ye don’t mind hav- 
in’ ’em drownded.” 

Oh, oh ! And Tabby don’t know ’noiigh 
to save ’em,” cried Prue, and she hastily left 
the room to capture the kittens. 

Professor Marden had been hastily sum- 
moned to Cambridge, thus making his visit 
a week shorter than had been intended, and 
J otham, who had meant to return with him, 
also changed his plans, and a hasty leave- 
taking became necessary in order that they 
might take the early train for Boston on 
the following morning. 

How often it happens that a thoughtless 
speech, innocently made, causes a world of 
discomfort. 

Before she had left the room to rescue 
her kittens, Prue had made a remark which 
caused Jotham much uneasiness. 

They had been speaking of the many new 
faces which one might see at church, as a 
proof that the little town was becoming 
more and more important. 

And some of the newcomers hev settled 


92 


RANDY^S GOOD TIAIES 


near us,” Aunt Prudence had said. 

There’s the Earnshaws and the Bateses 
within a gunshot of us.” 

‘^And I like Eunice Earnshaw, ’cause 
she’s so pleasant, and I like her big brother 
Arthur, ’cause he just ’mires my Kandy,” 
said Prue, thus trying to say a kind word 
for the new friends. 

He brought her some candy and he 
comes lots to see her ’n’ me,” she concluded. 

Professor Harden, well knowing Jotham’s 
admiration for Randy, thought by a joke 
to mend matters, but only made them worse. 

I presume young Mr. Earnshaw is most 
interested in you, little Prue, is he not? ” 
Oh, no ’n^eed,” said Prue frankly, ‘‘ he 
only talks to me ’cause I’m Randy’s little 
sister.” 

So while Prue, in the dooryard, played 
with the kittens, Jotham tried to still the 
unrest which the little girl’s words had 
caused by reminding himself that children 
often make thoughtless speeches, but he 
could not forget that they are also apt to hit 


A EASTY DEPARTURE 93 

very near the truth, and, always abso- 
lutely just, he knew that Arthur Earnshaw 
was a frank, manly, attractive fellow; did 
Randy think so, too? He could not ask the 
question, and a glance at the lovely face 
gave no answer to the query. 

Professor Harden looked at his watch. 

We must be going, Jotham,’’ he said; we 
have a wealth of books to pack as well as a 
few other trifles.” 

So adieus were said, Professor Harden 
asking Randy if she had any message for 
Hiss Dayton. 

Indeed, yes,” said Randy. Tell her 
that you found me to-day reading one of the 
charming books which she sent me, and that 
I send my love to her.” 

“ I shall see her as soon as I reach Bos- 
ton,” he said, '' and I will deliver your little 
message at once.” 

After they had gone, Randy sat long by 
the window. The book which she had held 
in her hand when they had arrived lay open 
upon her lap, but she was not reading. She 


94 RANDY’S GOOD TIMES 
Avas thinking of Jotham. How firm a 
friend he had ever been. As children they 
had been playmates, and at school he had 
always been a valiant champion. 

How the summer had flown! It seemed 
hardly possible that September was nearly 
gone, and that early on the morrow Jotham 
would be speeding toAv^ard Cambridge. 

Vaguely she wondered how it had hap- 
pened that she had seen other friends far 
oftener than she had seen him during the 
long summer since he returned in June, and 
at night Jotham, looking out at the starlit 
sky, thought regretfully of the numerous 
trips to the city which had kept him away 
from the little social pleasures which the 
young people had planned. He was still 
at Cambridge when the flrst picnic had oc- 
curred, and Reuben Jenks had been a de- 
lighted escort for Randy. 

You needn’t mind, Jotham,” he had 
written in describing the outing, ‘‘ I am 
your true friend, and Randy, who glories in 
being taller than I am, looks indulgently 


A HASTY DEPARTURE 95 

upon me as a well-meaning small boy. 
That might hurt my pride, only that 
Randy^s ways are always so sweet that no 
one can feel hurt while in her company.” 

Then the date chosen for the costume fes- 
tival was the same on which a business 
matter of much importance must be ad- 
justed. 

I cannot go to Boston on that week, 
Jotham,” his father had said, “ and you are 
as capable of attending to the matter as I 
am. I should like you to do this for 
me,^^ and Jotham, proud of his father^s trust 
in him, had answered cheerfully: 

ITl go and do the best I can for you.” 

How’ well he had succeeded ! How proud 
his father had been! Some questions had 
arisen during the conversation held in the 
office where, in place of his father, Jotham 
had called, and young though he was, and 
with little business experience, his shrewd 
eyes had seen that at least one of the men 
intended to be overreaching, and to take ad- 
vantage of his father^s absence and his own 


96 


RANDTS GOOD TIMES 


youth and inexperience. But Jotham had 
held firmly to his father’s instructions, and 
refused stoutly to listen to suggestions 
which were evidently made with a selfish 
purpose, and so clearly did he answer those 
questions which he thought deserved an an- 
swer, so cleverly did he evade those upon 
which his father had told him to be silent, 
that the older men were obliged, finally, to 
admit that the young man was quite right 
in the position which he had taken, and he 
had returned, justly proud to tell his father 
of all which had occurred. 

Mr. Potts was so delighted with Jotham’s 
first business trip, that several times during 
the summer he had entrusted him wdth other 
commissions quite as important. Twice he 
had been obliged to spend a fortnight in the 
city in order to meet men whom his father 
wished him to see and for whose return to 
the city he was obliged to wait. 

Jotham has the making of a smart law- 
yer,” said Mr. Potts to Judge Everton, one 
morning, to which the latter replied: 


A HASTY DEPARTURE 


97 


“ Then give him every opportunity to 
prove that what you say is true.^’ 

Indeed, I shall,’’ said Mr. Potts, “ and 
as it is Jotham’s wish to become a worthy 
member of the bar, he is working zealously 
to complete his course of study at the col- 
lege honorably, that he may be well 
equipped to enter the law school.” 

As he stood looking out into the night, 
Jotham was glad that he had been able to 
assist his father, winning his praise, which 
he knew was sincere, but he could not help 
wishing that it had been possible for him 
to have seen more of Kandy, and that he 
might have, if only for a few moments, 
talked with her of his plans and his regret 
at parting. 

Under a gnarled old apple tree stood two 
women engaged in an exciting conversa- 
tion. One was exceedingly stout, the other 
tall and slender, and apparently each had 
much to tell, for as soon as one for a mo- 
ment ceased speaking, the other instantly 


EANDY^S GOOD TIMES 


grasped the opportunity tobegin, and Jabez 
Brimblecom, as he passed, watched them for 
a moment, then ejaculated : 

I vum, but that’s a well-matched pair. 
Their . tongues go the same gait, ’boaut er 
mile er minute.” 

The stout woman, Mrs. Sophronia Hodg- 
kins, was attired in a gingham gown, and its 
large plaid seemed to increase her apparent 
size. As if to accentuate her slenderness, 
the tall one, Almira Meeks, was dressed in a 
striped cotton gown. Both wore sunbon- 
nets which nearly hid their faces, but the 
vigorous nodding of the two heads told that 
matters of much importance were being dis- 
cussed. 

Naow look er here, Almiry,” said Mrs. 
Hodgkins, ‘‘ don’t it stand ter reason that 
’twas ’stravagant? She had a set er blue 
wilier pattern, ’twas her gre’t-grand- 
mother’s, an’ naow she’s gone an’ bought 
that set er crockery, er chany, I do’no’ which 
’tis, but anyway ’twas daown in Barnes’s 
winder marked as plain as the nose on yer 



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A ffASTY DEPARTURE 99 

face, fifteen dollars ! That^s what I call jest 
reckless.” 

He had some dishes with yaller flaowers 
onto ^em, an’ some with pink,” the other 
woman rejoined. Which did she take? ” 

The yaller ones,” said Mrs. Hodgkins, 
an’ naow she’s a-givin’ aout word that 
she’s goin’ ter ’nvite the hull neighborhood 
ter come over ter a yaller tea.” 

What’s that, I’d like ter know? ” 
queried Mrs. Meeks. 

I do’no’, an’ I wonH ask. Whether the 
tea that we drink will be yaller, or whether 
the folks she invites is ter wear yaller, or 
whether she expects us all to look yaller 
with jealousy, we’ll find out when we git 
there. I’m some put aout with her fer try- 
in’ ter show off, but I’m that cu’rous I’ll jest 
Jiev tew go an’ see what it’s like.” 

u ?Twouldn’t look pleasant ter stay 
away,” said Mrs. Meeks, after she’s gone 
’n’ invited us. I’m most afraid she’d say we 
was real unfeelin’ ’n’ her a-makin’ prep’ra- 
tion fer a spread.” Life 


100 RANDY’S GOOD TIMES 

IHe no notion ter stay away/^ responded 
Mrs. Hodgkins with spirit ; fer I’m that 
baound ter know what a yaller tea is like, 
that I’d go, ef I had ter hop on one foot ter 
git there, an’ seein’s my ankle is still achin’ 
from the wrench I gave it tumblin’ daown 
the cellar stairs, I may hev ter go that way.” 

Ye’ll cut a figger, sure’s preachin’,” said 
Mrs. Meeks, and she laughed as she thought 
of her aunt’s portly figure traversing the 
road with a hop and a skip. 

There’s nothin’ ter laugh at, Almiry,” 
said Mrs. Hodgkins. I’ll likely ’nough be 
able ter hide my feelin’s and walk with both 
feet ef my ankle aches like time.” 

Mrs. Biiffum’s goin’ ’n’ she’s goin’ ter 
take all the children: Johnny ’n’ Tommy ’n’ 
Hitty ’n’ Katie ’n’ Jack ’n’ Sophy ’n’ Ann. 
D’you s’pose Mis’ Gray ’nvited children ter 
the tea? I don’t b’lieve she did,” said Mrs. 
Meeks, although her gentle eyes looked as if 
questioning as she turned toward her aunt. 

Why, I’d no idee that all the children 
in the neighborhood would be there. I 


A HASTY DEPARTURE 101 
don^t believe Mis’ Gray expects it. What a 
tribe to take anywherey fer the matter er 
that. Bless me ! But the way the cake an’ 
jell will disappear when them youngsters 
get at it! Last time we had a sociable at 
the vestry Hitty eat a sight more’n was good 
fer her; ’n’ I caught Johnny ’n’ Jack stuffin’ 
a few extry tarts, in their blouses. Said 
they was goin’ ter eat ’em on the way home. 
My! But them Buffums is a reg’lar little 
set er scallawags, ’n’ there’s so many of ’em 
that their ma can’t manage them. By the 
time she’s spoke ter each one of. ’em ’baout 
their manners, an’ waound up with the last 
on ’em, the fust youngster’s forgot every 
word she said ter him. Sometimes she gits 
discouraged, an’ lets ’em do as they like fer 
a week, an’ then when she starts aout ag’in 
ter train ’em they’re like a tribe er little 
savages.” 

Mrs. Hodgkins paused to take breath. 

The Simpkinses has had a letter from 
Timotheus,” said Mrs. Meeks, an’ ye know 
he jest sot his mind on bein’ a poet when 


102 RANDY’S GOOD TIMES 
he was here ter home. He’d write er pome 
on everything what happened in the village; 
but the time the mill burned he sorter run 
up agin a stump, so ter speak. Couldn’t 
find a word that would rhyme with steam 
fire-engine, an’ that discouraged him. Then 
when his brother Joel married Janie Clifton 
he ’nvited his cousin ’Liph’let Lamson ter 
be best man. Timotheus thought he ought 
ter stood up with him, bein’s he was his 
brother, ’n’ so on the spur er the moment, he 
took an’ went West ter his uncle’s ranche, 
an’ they say he’s doin’ ’nough sight better, 
raisin’ steers, ’stead er pomes.” 

Why, I see old Mr. Simpkins this morn- 
ing an’ says I, ^ When hev ye beared from 
Timotheus? ’ but he’s awful deef, an’ says 
he, ^ Keers’ll run over us? Wal, I guess 
like ’nough they will ef ye stand on the 
tracks like ye’re doin’ naow, it’s turrible 
careless.’ There wan’t no cars in sight, but 
I didn’t stop ter explain. I jest walked 
off’n the tracks an’ up the road. He never 
said a single thing about Timotheus; ye 


A HASTY DEPARTURE 


103 


know he thinks there never was a boy like 
him in this world an^ he’s ginerally a-talkin’ 
’baout him.” 

’Twas quite a jump from meanin’ ter be 
a poet ter tendin’ cattle, but ’twa’n’t much 
more of er hist than Josiah Boyden got on 
’lection day. They say he was er strut- 
tin’ raound daown ter the Centre, a-tellin’ 
the big things that he was goin’ ter do this 
next year when, as seelectman, he’d jest run 
the taown affairs as they’d oughter be run, 
when lo an’ behold, he wa’n’t ’lected, ’cause 
he wa’n’t even nom’nated,” said Mrs. 
Meeks. 

“ That must er hurt his bump er self- 
’steem. That there bump must be nigh on 
ter half the size er his head, an’ I do’no’ 
but larger,” said Mrs. Hodgkins, “ but I’ve 
not much sympathy with him, Almiry.” 

Neither hev I,” agreed Mrs. Meeks, but 
there’s one young man in taown that prom- 
ises ter be somethin’ worth while, an’ that’s 
Jotham Potts. They do say he’s gittin’ on 
jest surprisin’ at college. Why old Mr. 


104 


RANDrS GOOD TIMES 


What-yer-call-him — I’ve fergot his name — 
says that Jotham kin talk Greek an’ Latin 
like everything, an’ he says bein’s them’s 
the dead languages makes ’em turrible hard 
ter learn, bein’ nobody nowheres ter tell 
jest haow they oughter be spoke.” 

Fer massy sakes, Almiry ! ” ejaculated 
Mrs. Hodgkins, bearin’ ye refer to ’em as 
dead languages fairly makes me shiver ; but 
speakin’ ef Jotham, his father told Mr. 
Jenks, an’ Mr. Jenks told Parson Spooner 
’n’ he told his wife ’n’ she told Mis’ Gray ’n’ 
she told me that Jotham’s goin’ ter be a 
lawyer, ’n’ when it comes as d’rect as thatj 
ye’ve got ter b’lieve it. I was glad ter hear 
it, fer I like elotham.” 

Some say he was kinder cut up ’cause 
when he was away on a trip to Boston, Ar- 
thur Earnshaw was Randy’s comp’ny at the 
costume sociable,” said Mrs. Meeks. 

Why, he shouldn’t let that upset him,” 
Mrs. Hodgkins replied ; Randy’s as true 
as steel.” 

So she is,” agreed Mrs. Meeks, but 


A RA8TF DEPARTURE 105 
she’s that kind to every one, that there’s no 
sayin’ she’s partial to any one.” 

‘‘ Yes, yes, Kandy Weston is sunny an’ 
kind an’ true,” said Mrs. Hodgkins, her 
ma has always said she was a blessin’, an’ I 
guess every one who knows her ’ll b’lieve 
it.” 


CHAPTER VI 


A NEWS GATHERER 

A STOUT figure trudged laboriously up the 
well-worn path and tapped at the half-open 
door, then pushing it open, abruptly entered. 
With her hand upon the latch she looked 
furtively about the room, glanced toward 
the kitchen, and seeing no one, turned to- 
ward the inviting rocker which stood near 
and was about to sit down, when from the 
kitchen there sounded what appeared to be 
a warning : 

“ Don’t ye never meddle, 

Don’t ye never peek, 

Keep yer gossip ter yerself, 

Every day in the week.” 

My goodness ! But that ^ere Philury 
Flanders is gittin’ imperdent, as well as 
uppish. The idee! Who even thought er 
peekin^, an^ as fer gossip, every one fer 
106 


A NUWS GATHERER 107 

miles araound knows I’m the last one, the 
very last one ter think er gossipin’. I won’t 
stay a minute, after bearin’ her a-singin’ 
that at me, actooally hingin’ it at my head.” 

In her anger she turned smartly around 
and was about to direct a tart rebuke, aimed 
at the kitchen door, but intended for Phil- 
ury, when the envelope which she had been 
holding tightly clutched in her hand, 
slipped to the floor, and at that moment 
Philury entered the room. 

Oh, haow je do. Mis’ Hodgkins ; here, 
le’me pick up yer letter. Lor’ me, but I was 
er singin’ at the top er my voice this morn- 
in’, never dreamin’ that there was anybody 
hereabaouts ter listen ter my music. Kandy, 
she’s gone over ter the Earnshaws fer a min- 
ute, an’ her ma’s upstairs, an’ Prue — wal, 
Prue’s as usual, ’most anywhere, ye never 
can tell where ter lay a finger on her.” 

Mrs. Hodgkins sat down in the rocker. 
Philury’s honesty was apparent and the 
verse which she had been singing evidently 
referred to no one in particular. Her 


108 


HANDY'S GOOD TIMES 


genial face wore its customary smile, and 
Mrs. Hodgkins, looking up at the girl, won- 
dered that a moment ago she had been 
ready, yes, eager, to give her a sound scold- 
ing. 

I’ll wait ’til Mis’ Weston comes daown,” 
she said, ’n’ ye needn’t call to her ; I ain’t 
in no hurry, ’n’ the news I got ’ll keep, so I’ll 
jest set here a spell ’til I ketch my breath. 
This hill winds me completely.” 

Here’s a fan. Mis’ Hodgkins, ’n’ I’ll fetch 
ye er glass er water from the spring; it ’ll 
freshen ye up, ’n’ rest ye,” said Philury, as 
she left the room to hasten toward the little 
spring which gave the clearest, coldest 
water to be found in the county. 

Mrs. Hodgkins looked after the strong, 
young figure and nodded wisely as she said : 

Half er minute more’n ye’d given her a 
Scotch blessin’ that she didn’t deserve,” 
then, after a moment’s reflection she re- 
marked sagely : 

It don’t never pay ter be too hasty ; the 
chances is too great er lookin’ like a fool.” 


A NI/WS GATHERER 


109 


Philury soon returned with the water, 
which Mrs. Hodgkins eagerly drank, and 
she felt quite refreshed as she returned Mrs. 
Weston^s greeting. 

Ye say ye’ve bin up attic, have ye, ” she 
asked a moment later. Wal, there’s two 
places in my haouse that I don’t never 
’ntend ter see; one’s up attic, ’n’ t’other’s 
daown cellar. My husband, he takes er tur- 
rible int’rest in that ’ere cellar. He’s fur- 
ever er cleanin’ of it. One time he’s pickin’ 
over pertaters; ’nother time he’s hevin’ it 
white washed ; ’fore ye know it, he’s er pick- 
in’ over apples, ’n’ he seems ter be so happy 
pokin’ raound daown there that I don’t never 
int’rupt him. Then when Aunt Lib’ty 
Jinks comes fer er visit, she goes upstairs 
an’ puts the attic ter rights. I tell her 
seein’ her name’s Lib’ty, I let her hev her 
own way, but it makes me laugh. When 
one’s doawn cellar an’ t’other up attic 
both on ’em hoppin’ ’raound an’ makin’ 
things fly at both ends er the haouse, I jest 
set between an’, as I’m somewhat hefty, I 


110 BANDY^S GOOD TIMES 
tell ’em I jest keep the haouse from rockin’ 
on its faoundation while they two are er 
tearin’ raound.” 

You are more’n lucky, ef ye can find 
two to keep the top and bottom er yer 
haouse in order,” said Mrs. Weston, and she 
smiled as she thought of Mrs. Hodgkins 
serenely sitting midway in her domicile 
while at either extreme Mr. Hodgkins and 
Aunt Liberty Jinks wreaked vengeance 
upon dust and dirt. 

“ An’ speakin’ of Aunt Lib’ty ; did ye ever 
hear tell of such a name? Ye see her gran’- 
ther fit inter the Kev’lution, an’ takin’ that 
an’ the fact that she was born on the fourth 
of July, he wouldn’t hear to it that she 
should be called anything but Lib’ty. Her 
mother tried to coax him out er the idee, 
but it didn’t work. ‘ I ain’t got a grand- 
child named after me, nor one that I’ve had 
the pleasure er namin’,’ he said. ^ Naow ye 
kin choose betwixt these two; she’ll be 
named Lib’ty er Battle-cry-er-freedom, I 
don’t keer which, tho’ I favor Lib’ty.’ Wal, 


A JVBWS GATirUBUE 


111 


her gran’ther had some money, an’ so wa’n’t 
ter be offended, an’ nat’rally, if it must be 
one or t’other, her ma chose Lib’ty.” 

I think that’s just a lovely name,” said 
Prue, who, having seen Mrs. Hodgkins 
through the open door, had hurried in to 
listen to the village news which was almost 
sure to be retailed. It was so very interest- 
ing to hear that Mrs. Buffum was making 
over a gown for Hitty, or that Johnny 
Buffum’s new trousers were made from a 
pair of his father’s, no refitting being con- 
sidered necessary, although they looked 
large enough for two of his size. Only the 
legs had been cut off. So the story usually 
ran, and Prue considered Mrs. Hodgkins’ 
conversation to be very interesting. 

What’s that ye say, child? Ye like the 
name er Lib’ty? Wal, there’s no ’caountin’ 
fer tastes. I alius thought there wasn’t no 
name in these parts as homely as Lib’ty 
Jinks.” 

Why, that’s what I like ’bout it,” Prue 
replied in surprise.. 


112 


RANDTS GOOD TIMES 


Liberty Jenks ! Just hear it ! Liberty 
Jenks! Why it sounds ’most as smart as 
Jiminy Crickets! That’s what Hi Babson 
says when he’s s’prised.” 

“ But you mustn’t say it,” said Mrs. Wes- 
ton gently. 

I didn’t say it myself said Prue, I 
only told what Hi said.” 

Wal, never mind what Hi said ; what 
Hi’s done is the thing ter be considered,” 
Mrs. Hodgkins remarked, nodding wisely, 
as if to imply that words could hardly 
express the enormity of the small boy’s 
crime. 

Think er that there watch an’ fob that 
Josiah Boyden wore ter the costume soci- 
able, ’n’ lost it right off’n him, ’n’ no one’s 
seen it sence. ’N’ I’ll tell ye what Mis’ 
Weston, Josiah Boyden declares that Hi 
could tell where ’tis ef he’s er mind ter. 
There! Ain’t that the wust?” 

Mrs. Hodgkins lay back in her chair as if 
the telling of the awful suspicion had caused 
her utterly to collapse. 


A JSTFV/S GATHERER 113 

Mrs. Weston’s gentle face wore a trou- 
bled expression as she said : 

I don’t think J osiah ought to ’cuse Hi 
unless he feels reel sure that the boy had 
a hand in the dis’pearance. Mebbe Hi 
never even seen it. It’s not right ter be 
hasty ’baout sayin’ a neighbor’s boy stole.” 

Wal, Josiah Boyden is a turrible mean 
specimen of er man ef he has been seeled- 
man, but I s’pose he’s likely ter hit the nail 
on the head sometimes; mebbe this is one 
er the times.” 

Much more gossip followed which Philury 
found very amusing. 

My, but don’t she beat all fer c’lectin’ 
news,” thought the girl. Even busy as I 
be aout in this ’ere kitchen, I can’t help 
bearin’ bits er the news she’s gathered. I 
ain’t actooally listenin’,” said Philury, 
though I haven’t tried very hard not to 
hear. The parson says it’s er sin ter gossip, 
but I’ll be baound, ef he actooally owned up, 
he’d hev ter say that newsmongers, at times, 
was somewhat int’restin’.” 


114 RANDY^8 GOOD TIMES 

Philury^s miisings were interrupted just 
at that moment. 

Did you ever hear Philury sing? asked 
Prue. 

Why, yes ’ndeed/^ Mrs. Hodgkins re- 
plied, she was er singin^ away at the top 
of her lungs when I fust come in. Why d’ye 
ask, Prue?” 

’Cause if you hadn’t ever heard her, I’d 
go ask her to sing now. She makes up her 
tunes and her words herself,” said Prue; 
then, as if to make her meaning clear, she 
added : Makes ’em all up in her head. I 
can make some, too,” she continued, I 
made a lovely tune this morning. Want to 
hear me sing it? ” 

The little girl smiled radiantly. Evi- 
dently she anticipated giving what she con- 
sidered would be a fine musical treat. 

Why sartain ; sing away,” said Mrs. 
Hodgkins kindly. 

This is my tune. It’s ’most as good as 
Philury’s,” said Prue. I heard a big 
grasshopper singing all alone this morning; 


A NEWS GATITBBIJB 115 

I guess he^s the last one there is now, and 
this is the tune I play he sung : 

“ Hear me hum, hear me hum, 

Hear my little fiddle. 

Hear the funny tune I play go 
Diddle, diddle, diddle. 

Ain’t that a beautiful tune? ” she asked, but 
her question was drowned in the laughter 
which her musical composition evoked. 
Her mother was amused, Mrs. Hodgkins 
shook with convulsive mirth; but Philury 
was the chief offender. Long and loudly 
her laughter rang out, and Prue looked from 
one to the other in hurt surprise. 

Well everybody needn’t have laughed at 
my little tune,” she said in a grieved voice, 
for my tune was as good as Phil- 
ury’s.” 

Bless yer heart, Prue, we liked it ; of 
course we liked it,” said Mrs. Weston, but 
we had ter laugh ’cause ’twas reel funny 
ter think of er grasshopper er sittin’ up, an’ 
er singin’ a tune.” 

Well if that’s why you laughed, I don’t 


116 EANDY^S GOOD TIMES 
mind, ’cause a grasshopper is funny,” said 
Prue, her face illumined with a sunny smile, 
but Pl Uury, whom she had endeavored to 
imitate and whose laughter had been loud- 
est, was obliged to promise many cookies, 
cut in elaborate shapes, before little Prue 
could agree to forgive her offense. 

At last Mrs. Hodgkins arose to go. I 
must go, I reely must,” she said, I thought 
ter myself when I come in that I mustn’t 
stay, fer I left er piece of meat on b’ilin’, an’ 
I’m ’most afeared the water’s biled out’n it 
by this time. I’d hate ter hev it burn on 
the kittle.” 

When Mrs. Hodgkins had gone Philury 
said : 

“ She’s the reskiest woman I ever seen. 
Every time she comes she says she’s got er 
piece er meat on b’ilin’, or er batch er cake 
in the oven, an’ then she sets an’ sets while 
she reels off yarns, an^ the meat an’ the cake 
may burn ef they see fit, but she don’t stir 
from her cheer till she’s told us all she’s got 
ter tell.” 


A JST^WjS gatherer 


117 


“ Oh, ye mustn^t speak so, Philury,’’ said 
Mrs. Weston, although one could see that 
she was as much amused as Philury. 

Along the road Sophrony Hodgkins hast- 
ened, her mind filled with anxiety, not for 
her boiling meat — no, indeed. In her busy 
brain she was revolving the problem as to 
Hi Babson^s probable innocence or guilt, 
and kind-hearted although she was, she was 
not hoping that he might be found innocent. 
Rather, she was wondering if the watch 
were found in Hi^s possession, if the county 
papers would give full particulars regard- 
ing its recovery, or whether one would be 
obliged to confront Josiah Boyden in per- 
son, and ask for information if one wished 
to learn details. 

“ Josiah ain’t er bit satisfying,” she mut- 
tered, he’s too stingy ter give anything, 
even news that don’t cost a cent.” 

She still held in her hand the letter which 
she had taken to the Westons, but she had 
quite forgotten it, her curiosity regarding 
Hi Babson and Josiah Boyden completely 


118 RANDY^S GOOD TIMES 

filling her mind to the exclusion of all other 

matters. 

“ Ef I go on straight daown the road,” 
she thought, I’ll as likely as not jest miss 
seein’ Almiry, ’n’ I shouldn’t like ter miss 
her, bein’s I promised ter meet her, but I’m 
some late naow, so I guess I’ll jest cut 
across Mis’ Earnshaw’s garden an’ p’raps 
ketch her ’fore she turns back, thinkin’ I 
ain’t cornin’.” 

Eandy had just left Eunice, and as she 
walked slowly down the path she did not 
notice Mrs. Hodgkins until her heavy tread 
and her blunt ejaculation announced her 
presence. 

“ Why, land er mercy ! Here ye be,” she 
exclaimed, ’n’ I ain’t seen ye sence a week 
ago come Tuesday, when ye passed the 
haouse as gay as er butterfly with yer mus- 
lin an’ pink ribbons an’ yer fine hat. Ye 
looked as fresh as er rose, ’n’ I wished I’d 
been aout there ter tell ye so. I ain’t 
afeared er turnin’ yer head with compli- 
ment, Randy. Fust, ’cause ’tain’t nothin’ 


A J^mVS GATHERER 


119 


new fer you ter hev ^em handed aout ter yer, 
an^ second, ’cause ye’ve got too much good 
sense ter hev yer head so easily made silly.” 

Oh, thank you,” said Randy, laughing 
pleasantly. I am glad you liked my new 
muslin, and even more glad of your good 
opinion.” 

I’ve liked yer ever sence ye was little, 
Randy,” Mrs. Hodgkins- replied, but naow 
tell me,” she continued, when hev ye 
beared news of J otham ? ” Then as she sud- 
denly remembered that she held an envelope 
in her hand, her eyes brightened, and an 
eager light shone in them. 

Wal, ef I ain’t clean beat ! ” she ex- 
claimed. Ef I didn’t git this letter at the 
post office ’long er mine, an’ took it straight 
over ter yer haouse ter give it ter ye, an’ here 
I be with it still in my hand. I’d clean for- 
got ’baout it.” 

Randy thanked Mrs. Hodgkins as she took 
the letter, but she did not open it. How 
any one could receive a letter and not im- 
mediately wish to learn what news it might 


120 RANDY’S GOOD TIMES 
contain was more than Mrs. Hodgkins could 
comprehend. 

“ Ain’t ye going ter read it? ” she asked, 
her eyes fastened upon the envelope. 

Why, certainly I shall read it when I 
reach home,” said Randy, her sweet face 
showing a shade of annoyance. She knew 
very well that Mrs. Hodgkins would have 
been charmed to share the reading of 
the letter with her, and while she knew her 
to be a kind and generous woman, she could 
not but feel disgusted with such evident 
curiosity. 

Randy would have passed her, but Mrs. 
Hodgkins adroitly stepped quickly toward 
the center of the path, and thus it would be 
quite impossible to proceed unless she 
wished to appear rude. 

I don’t s’pose ye mind tellin’ me ef it is 
from Jotham, do ye? ” Mrs. Hodgkins asked. 

Randy’s answer was tactful and shrewd. 
“ I haven’t opened it yet,” she said quietly. 

Wal, I didn’t know but ye’d be able ter 
guess whose writin’ ’twas,” ventured the cur- 


A JVBWS GATHERER 121 

ious woman ; it looked ter me like Jotham^s 
father’s writin’, but his father wouldn’t 
likely be writin’ ter ye, so I thought mebbe 
’twas Jotham. His pa used ter keep com- 
p’ny with me, an’ many’s the notes ’n’ valen- 
tines that passed between us ’fore he mar- 
ried the present Mrs. Potts ’n’ I married Mr. 
Hodgkins. I must reely say the writin’ on 
that ere envelope I handed ye looked ’mazin’ 
sim’lar.” 

Half impatiently, half in pity for a 
woman whose curiosity could make her so 
uncomfortable, Kandy opened her letter and 
glanced at the signature. Then replacing 
it in its envelope she turned toward Mrs. 
Hodgkins. 

“ The letter is from Jotham,” she said 
gently. 

There, I was sure ’twas,” was the grati- 
fied reply. The minute I see that writin’ 
I says ter myself, ^ somebody er the name er 
Potts writ that, as sure as preachin’.” 

Randy smiled pleasantly. 

You guessed rightly,” she said, but Mrs. 


122 BANDY'S GOOD TIMES 
Hodgkins realized that she was not likely to 
learn the contents of the letter, so after a 
moment^s hesitation she hastened along the 
path toward the little grove at the rear of 
the Earnshaw place, and she looked eagerly 
about to see if Almira were in sight. 

I^m consid’able late,^’ she muttered, so 
I guess I jist missed Almiry. I s’pose she’ll 
be some mad ef she stood ’raound waitin’ 
fer me ’n hour ’n’ half.” 

Shading her eyes with her hand, she 
looked along the shady footpath, but no one 
was in sight, and Mrs. Hodgkins breathed 
a sigh of relief. Not because she had not 
wished to meet her niece — she had really in- 
tended to do so, but she knew that in her 
eagerness for news, she had quite forgotten 
her appointment, and therefore Almira 
Meeks would be angry, and justly so. There 
was little doubt that Almira had, as usual, 
been prompt in reaching the appointed 
place, and Mrs. Hodgkins felt that it would 
be far pleasanter to meet her niece after her 
anger had abated. 


A NEW8 GATHERER 


123 


She don’t never stay mad long,” she said, 
“ ’n’ when I call over to see her. I’ll take her 
some er the red caliker that was left over 
f’m my dress. She took er real fancy ter 
the stuff, an’ the piece I had left’ll be ’nough 
ter make her ’n apron. That’ll make her 
glad ter see me.” 

Mrs. Hodgkins considered this to be a de- 
cidedly clever scheme, and she chuckled 
audibly. 

I’ll jist cut through the woods,’^ she 
thought, fer el osiah Boyden’s haouse is on 
t’other side, an’ ’f I should chance ter meet 
him, p’raps he’d tell me ef he’s succeeded in 
pesterin’ little Hi Babson ’nough ter make 
him tell what he done with that watch. I 
hate Josiah so that I wouldn’t go out er my 
way ter speak ter him, only that I’m ’baout 
wild ter know how he makes aout with that 
boy. My! but he’s what his old Grandma 
Babson calls a reg’lar limb.” 

Mrs. Hodgkins in her eagerness to reach 
Josiah Boyden’s house, had scorned the 
well-trodden footpath which led circuitously 


124 


BANDY’S GOOD TIMES 


toward it, and tramping impartially upon 
blossoms and briers, she soon came to grief. 
An especially thorny blackberry vine caught 
the skirt of her cotton gown, and the re- 
sult was a long slit, torn so ruthlessly 
that much time would be required to 
mend it. 

Wal, why didn^t ye tear the hull skirt 
off^n me? ” she demanded sharply, as she 
vainly attempted to loosen the gown from 
the briers which seemed determined to hold 
it. 

A tall clump of dogberry bushes stood 
behind the briers and, thus completely 
screened, she became aware of voices in 
earnest conversation, yet she could not see, 
or be seen by the speakers. 

‘‘ Why, who on airth be they, ^n’ what air 
they ’baout? she whispered. 

In her excitement her torn dress, which 
still clung to the briers, was quite forgotten, 
and she leaned eagerly forward, parting 
the dogberry bushes with her hands. 

Gracious me ! ” she ejaculated. 


A NEWS GATHERER 


125 


Naow, then, ye little varmint, own up, 
own up, I tell ye ! I’ve ketched ye at last, 
an’ ye’ll OAvn up ’fore I let go of ye ef I hev 
ter hold ye ’til next year.” 

It was Josiah Boy den who shouted thus 
angrily, while keeping a firm hold upon the 
small boy’s collar. The boy was Hi Babson, 
and if one might judge by the expression of 
his stolid, dark little face, one would be 
tempted to say that the confession for which 
Josiah waited might as well be expected 
in ten years as in one. 

The listener peeping through the dogberry 
bushes held her breath. 

Would Hi give in ? ” she wondered. The 
man tightened his grasp. 

Ye little imp ! ” he cried in exasper- 
ation, at the same time giving his wiry little 
victim a violent shake. 

Ye jest le’me go ! ” shouted Hi. 

Not ’til ye tell what ye done with 
that watch,” said Josiah stoutly. 

Didn’t I tell ye I hadn’t seen yer 
watch?” snarled Hi. 


126 


RANDY^S GOOD TIMES 


didn’t I say I’d hold ye ’til ye owned 
up? ” the man retorted. 

Then for a moment silence reigned. Jo- 
siah kept his eyes upon Hi. Hi looked stol- 
idly down at the ground where with an old 
iron spoon he had been digging when Boy- 
den had surprised him. 

“ Come ! I ain’t got time to waste. Quit 
yer foolin’ an’ tell me what ye took ’n’ hid 
my watch in the dirt fer, an’ why ye ain’t 
willin’, like a honest boy, ter dig it up an’ 
give it back ter me.” 

Then he resorted to wheedling. 

Come, Hi. I kin dig it up myself, but 
I want ye should do it with yer own hands, 
so’s ye can restore it ter me, ’n’ I kin tell the 
hull taown what er good boy ye be. Come, 
Hi, show me where ’tis ’n’ dig it up, won’t 
ye?” 

The small boy made no answer, but his 
frown darkened and he tried to twitch away 
from the detaining hand. 

‘^No ye don’t!” shouted Josiah, ’tain’t 
so easy ter git away. Naow, boy, I tell ye 



“ Le’ go my collar, ek I can’t dig.” — Page 127 





4 




A NEWS GATHERER 127 

that mebbe ye didn^t know that I beared ye 
tell some er the boys that ye was Cap’n 
Kidd, that ye got some treasure buried in 
this ^ere wood. Smart, ain^t ye, takin’ my 
watch ter hide fer some er yer booty? Won- 
der who’s else’s vaFables ye’ve stole?” 

Ain’t stole nothin’,” muttered Hi. 

Come, naow ! I ain’t goin’ ter wait no 
longer. Ye’ll dig up what’s under that dirt, 
an’ le’ me see it, er ye’ll march straight ter 
the caounty jail. Quick, naow! Which’ll 
ye choose? It’s one or t’other.” 

Ow ! ” squealed Hi, “ stop chokin’ me 
’n’ I’ll dig up all there is in the hole, ’n’ ye 
kin hev it, ye stingy old thing! Le’go my 
collar, er I can’t dig.” 

Surprised at the change in Hi’s attitude, 
Josiah loosened his grasp and the boy began 
to dig away the heap of dirt which he had 
been placing there when Josiah had sur- 
prised him. He dug furiously at the little 
heap, and he seemed to grow more and more 
angry with every thrust of the iron spoon. 

I’d just got this treasure hid ter tease 


128 RANDY^S GOOD TIAIES 
the fellers when ye come erlong, an^ yeVe 
pestered me ^baout sendin’ me ter jail ’til 
here I be jest sp’ilin’ all the fun ter ’com’- 
date ye. The fellers says ye hate boys, ’n’ 
I guess ye do.” 

Quit talkin’ ’n’ hurry up that ’ere dig- 
gin’ ! ” commanded Boyden. 

With one vicious dig Hi unearthed a 
muddy object which he held for an instant 
by a long, string-like something, between his 
thumb and finger. 

“ There’s yer gret watch ! ” he shouted. 

Ain’t ye glad ye made me dig it up? I 
put it there jest to fool the other boys. Ye 
wanted I should let ye see what ’twas. 

Well, look at it, ef ye want ter. It’s a 
ole mushrat^ an’ smell it, too, ef ye’d like 
ter,” he cried, as, completely mastered by 
rage, he fiung the muddy object directly at 
the ex-seelectman, and turning, ran rapidly 
out of the woodland into the bright sun- 
shine, and straight toward home. 

Josiah looked after the flying figure, well 
knowing that Hi would waste no time in 


A JVBWS GATHERER 


129 


telling all whom he met of his discomfiture ; 
then glancing ruefully at his waistcoat 
where the disgusting thing had hit it, he 
made an attempt to brush off the moist dirt 
which clung to it. Bending over the hole 
where the rat had lain he saw that nothing 
else was hidden there. 

Haow did I know the little imp was 
spendin’ his time er hidin^ such rubbish as 
that? ” he muttered. 

He would have given much to have been 
able to silence Hi, never dreaming that 
the underbrush hid one who had wit- 
nessed the proceedings, and whose glib 
tongue and nimble feet were winged news- 
bearers far more to be feared than little 
Hi. 

Hi could kindle rebellion among his boy 
friends, but the woman whom the dogberry 
bushes screened could arouse the whole vil- 
lage. 

With a sour visage he turned toward 
home, and when Josiah was out of sight 
Mrs. Hodgkins left her cramped position, 


130 RANDTS GOOD TIMES 
loosened her skirt from the briers and, leav- 
ing the wood, turned her steps toward home. 

“ My work’s stood still this morning, but 
I wouldn’t missed that sight fer a farm,” she 
said gleefully. 


CHAPTER VII 


AT THE VILLAGE STORE 

The road curved just beyond the Earn- 
shaw place, and Randy sat down upon the 
wall, and opening her letter began to read. 

Sometimes a crackling twig caused her 
to turn, or the merry song of a bird caught 
her attention, but no real interruption oc- 
curred, and she read the long letter through, 
then re-read parts of it, where Jotham, with 
boyish enthusiasm, described the social 
pleasures which he was enjoying, and hinted 
of others which the winter would bring. 

Professor Marden is so kind,’’ he wrote ; 
“ how can I ever repay him for all which 
he has done for me? Not only as my tutor, 
but in many ways he has been all that was 
generous and helpful. I am at heart a 
country lad, yet he has, and is to-day helping 
me to overcome faults in speech and man- 
131 


132 


EANDY^S GOOD TIMES 


ner. So gently, and yet so frankly does he 
criticise, that he never hurts me, and I am 
sure that he must know how deeply I appre- 
ciate his careful training, which does not 
end with the closing of the classroom door. 
He has taken me with him to receptions and 
oh, wonder of wonders ! He has twice per- 
mitted me to accompany him when he called 
upon Miss Helen Dayton, for be it known, 
Randy, I think that the genial professor is 
far oftener there than at any other house in 
Boston. 

Of course I am not sure of this, but he 
has many, many more evenings for engage- 
ments than he used to allow, and there is, 
if I mistake not, a brighter light in his eyes, 
an elastic spring in his tread, and yesterday 
in the class-room the students laughed mer- 
cilessly because when reading my transla- 
tion the last sentence of which was ‘ She is 
a goddess,^ Professor Harden with enthus- 
iasm ejaculated : ^ She is! ’ Then he colored 
furiously and hastily dismissed his class. 

Afterward he said to me: ^ Jotham, in 


AT THE VILLAGE STORE 183 
all the time I have given to teaching, I was 
never caught wool-gathering ” before/ 

“ The fellows have been saying that the 
handsome young professor is becoming a 
society man, and only the fact that he is 
extremely popular with the students will 
save him from endless teasing.” 

Then followed a little record of his own 
progress, of some small triumphs in the 
classroom, of the genuine congratulations 
offered him by his college mates. 

You will remember,” wrote Jotham, 
Mr. Jack Blentmore, the artist, who during 
his stay in our little town, painted a charm- 
ing picture of Phoebe Small standing by the 
little spring with the quaint water jug in 
her hand. He gave a reception at his studio 
last week and I was favored with an invita- 
tion to be present. We went. Professor 
Marden and myself, and such a crowd of 
gentlemen with gorgeously dressed ladies 
was there! 

But the pictures — they were all impor- 
tant — no description which I could give, 


134 EANDY*8 GOOD TIMES 

would be adequate to do justice to the fine 
exhibition. There were portraits of hand- 
some dowagers in velvets and brocades, of 
lovely girls, and beautiful children. I wish 
you might have seen them. You would 
have appreciated them, as many of the city 
girls present did not. Many there were who 
gave the pictures the attention which they 
deserved, but there were a few who chattered 
noisily, and apparently came to exhibit their 
fine costumes ; never a thought had they for 
the pictures. Mr. Blentmore was an ideal 
host, moving about his great studio in his 
easy, pleasant way, and he accepted the fine 
things which were said of his pictures by 
those who possessed sufficient intellect to en- 
joy them, and it seemed to me that he was 
not in the least degree annoyed by the group 
in the corner. He only looked amused as 
if he were thinking, ^ Poor things ! and I 
suppose chattering is your only accomplish- 
ment.’ ” 

Eandy folded the letter and replaced it 
in its envelope, and for a long time she sat 


AT THE VILLAGE STORE 135 


upon the wall, thinking of Helen Dayton, 
whom she so dearly loved. 

Yes, she had seen it during her visit to 
Miss Dayton^s fine home. Surely the pro- 
fessor had long been Helen’s ardent admirer, 
and was his attention welcome? 

Randy could not tell. Helen Dayton had 
smiled impartially upon all her friends, and 
if she had*a preference, she had most tact- 
fully concealed it. 

The letter closed with kind regards for 
herself and a merry message for little 
Prue. 


And while Randy sat upon the wall 
dreaming of Helen Dayton, Mrs. Hodgkins 
sped on her way toward home. 

“ I’ve got ter git dinner ’n’ I’m jest plaguy 
late ’baout it,” she thought, puffing as she 
hastened on. 

“ I’ve got ter git dinner, there’s no gittin’ 
aout’n that; but the minnit it’s eaten, I’ll 
jest slide the dishes inter the closet, an’ off 
I’ll go ter tell everybody what I jest seen 


136 RANDT8 GOOD TIMES 
’n’ beared. I don^t stop ter wash no dishes 
when there^s er piece er news like that ter 
tell. My! but Josiah was mad when that 
old muddy muskrat hit him! I ain’t over 
fond er Hi Babson, but then I ain’t specially 
took with Josiah^ ’n’ I had all I could do ter 
keep still when Josiah waited for his watch, 
an’ ketched a muskrat instead.” 

Mrs. Hodgkins often talked to herself. 
Jabez Brimblecom said she acquired the 
habit because she was sure of an interested 
listener. 

Mr. Hodgkins was a patient man, and so 
often had he been obliged to endure a 
picked up ” dinner, that he seemed to 
accept one as a matter of course, and he 
made no comment upon the array of viands 
which his wife set before him with the ex- 
planation that she had jest run aout for a 
minnit an’ got belated.” 

Here’s er slice er cold ham ’n’ er cold 
pertater,” said Mrs. Hodgkins, I couldn’t 
bile any, fer I was aout.” 

Her husband made no remark. Why 


AT THE VILLAGE STORE 137 
should he? It was surely not a novelty 
that Mrs. Hodgkins should be out. Indeed, 
it would have been far more unusual if she 
had been in. 

1 had some pickled beets, but they^re 
spiled,” she continued, but there’s a b’iled 
egg that was left over from breakfast, ’n’ 
I’m all aout’n white bread, but here’s the 
crust off’n Sunday’s braown bread. 

It’s kinder hard, bein’ it’s four days old, 
but I guess ye can eat it ef ye soak it in yer 
tea. What, ye ain’t got no tea? Oh, no, 
I didn’t make any. Wal, I’ll make ye er 
cup er m’lasses an’ water, I guess ye kin 
make er meal.” 

More like I’ll hev ter,” said Mr. Hodg- 
kins mildly, and Mrs. Hodgkins resolved to 
reward his patience by promising a treat 
for the next day’s dinner. 

“ I kin tell all I seen this afternoon an’ 
ter-morrer I’ll cook like all fury,” she 
thought. She ate but little, tasting only a 
few morsels, and even as she ate she turned 
an eager face toward the window, whence a 


138 EANDY^S GOOD TIMES 

fine view of the road toward the Centre 

could be seen. 

Ye didn’t seem ter keer ’baout eatin’/’ 
remarked Mr. Hodgkins ; ain’t je got no 
ap’tite, er don’t the dinner look tasty? ” 

Oh, it looks well ’nough,” was the reply, 
“ but I was er thinkin that p’raps I’d take 
er little run aout this arternoon, bein’s I’m 
ter spend the hull forenoon ter-morrer er 
cookin’.” 

Wal, I guess ye’d better go, fer it’s 
twelve o’clock naow, an’ ye ain’t been aout 
sense ’leven. Prob’ly ye need the air,” he 
said. 

Mrs. Hodgkins said nothing. She felt that 
her habitually mild spouse had for once 
spoken sarcastically, and as she intended to 
go, whatever his opinion might be, she 
thought a reply superfluous. 

As she stood before the looking glass and 
tied her bonnet strings, Mrs. Hodgkins tried 
to decide to whom she would first tell of 
Josiah Boyden’s discomfiture. 

I could run over to Almiry’s, but she’s 


AT THE VILLAGE STORE 139 

so quiet, no excitement ter tell news 

ter her, ’sides she ain’t likely fergiv’n me 
yit fer missin’ my app’intment. ’N’ Mis’ 
Jenks is so tiirrible busy, ye can’t make her 
stop long ’nough ter listen ter yer.” Then 
lifting her forefinger and shaking it at her 
refiection in the glass, she said excitedly : 

“ Thafs the place, the very place ! 
Barnes’s store, where nigh on ter everybody 
congregates; that’s where I’ll go ter tell it, 
’n’ I hope there’ll be ’nough folks there ter 
’njoy it, ’n’ I hope one person won’t be there, 
’n’ that’s Josiah.” 

She wasted no time in reaching the store, 
and no better audience could have been 
chosen than that which formed a group 
around the rusty old stove. 

There sat old Nate Burnham, in his cus- 
tomary place behind it, his elbows on his 
knees and his chin in his hands, waiting 
for a stray bit of news which might come 
his way. He was as confirmed a village 
gossip as Mrs. Hodgkins, but he differed 
from her in that he was far too indolent to 


140 


BANDTS GOOD TIMES 


gather it. Like an ancient tree root which 
sometimes appears above the surface of the 
running brook, which catches and detains 
the floating rubbish as it glides down the 
stream, so Nate Burnham sat in his place 
behind the stove, and strained his ears to 
hear any bit of news or gossip which might 
luckily drift toward him. 

In the absence of customers Silas Barnes 
was entertaining the group with a vivid 
account of his last trip to Boston, when he 
almost lost his pocket-book and then nearly 
missed the train in hunting for it. 

I almost lost my money, ’n^ I almost 
lost my train, ’n’ I almost, yes, pooty nigh 
lost my patience at the same time,” he de- 
clared. 

A rough-looking farmer who was indus- 
triously whittling with a huge jackknife, 
looked up with a sudden show of in- 
terest. 

“ Tell us ’baout the time ye got inter Bos- 
ton common ’n’ went ^raound an’ ’raound 
fer ’n hour ’fore ye faound yerself right by 


AT THE VILLAGE STORE 141 
the frog pond where ye started. That ^ere 
yarn makes me laugh every time I ’’ 

The sentence remained incomplete, for at 
that moment Mrs. Hodgkins rushed in at 
the open door, and by her expression they 
knew that she had something important to 
tell. 

One sweeping glance told her that Boyden 
was not present, and taking a long breath 
she exclaimed: 

^‘Wal, what d^ye think? Josiah Boyden 
ain’t faound his gran’ther’s watch yet ’n’ 
that ain’t because he ain’t tried hard ’nough, 
fer goodness knows he’s talked ’baout it ’til 
’most everybody’s tired er bearin’ it, ’n’ he’s 
pestered the life out’n little Hi Babson ’n’ 
that’s what I’m cornin’ ter ; ” and then fol- 
lowed a faithful description of the scene as 
it had appeared to Mrs. Hodgkins from her 
position behind the dogberry bushes. 

Her listeners were all attention, Nate 
Burnham, as usual, with his mouth wide 
open, preserving silence until the climax of 
the story was reached, when amidst loud 


142 RANDTS GOOD TIMES 
and hearty laughter from the group he ex- 
claimed : 

“ Wal, but that was hard upon Josiah, 
ter hev a muddy ole mushrat fired right agin 
his wes’cut, ’n’ him so particular, not ter say 
big feel in’.” 

A sound of footsteps caused the merry 
group to turn toward the door. They all 
thought that the pompous ex-seelectman 
had arrived just as their mirth at his ex- 
pense was at its height, but it proved to be 
Jabez Brimblecom, who, with twinkling 
eyes and a leisurely tread, walked into the 
store and taking a position near the center 
of the group, made this announcement: 

Wal, friends, Josiah’s mind’s easy ’n’ at 
the same time on-easy, for his gran’ther’s 
watch has come ter light, ’n’ that pleases 
him, but he’d ’most rather not faound it, 
than had it faound where ’twas.” 

How the questions were shouted at Jabez 
Brimblecom ! 

Where d’he find it? ” Who had it? ” 

Was it smashed, er only a little jammed? ” 


AT THE VILLAGE ^TORE 143 
Haow long did he hunt ’fore he faound 
it? ” Haow did he happen ter hit the 
right place? ” 

“ Keep still er jiffy ’n’ I’ll tell ye the hull 
business,” Jabez answered, his hand raised 
to command silence. 

“ They was er cleanin’ up the vestry this 
noon, ’n’ I went over ter help ’em aout er 
bit, ’n’ Josiah came stampin’ along er 
whackin’ the graound with his cane, ’n’ 
seein’ the door open, he tramped in, lookin’ 
raound ’s if he never see persons ’ngaged in 
clarin’ up before. 

^ Pooty tough fer me ter lose that ’ere 
/lair-loom,’ he growled, ’n’ I was so tired 
er the hull thing that I s’pose I spoke as I 
hadn’t oughter. 

Says I, ^Hair-loom did ye say, Josiah? 
Why, I’ve been thinkin’ all ’long ’twas er 
watch ye was er snarlin’ ’baout,’ an’ he was 
so tarnal mad that he sort er choked ’fore he 
could answer, an’ ’fore he spoke I spied 
somethin’ shiny upon er leetle shelf, an’ 
when I put my finger on to it I knew ’fore I 


144 RANDY'S GOOD TIMES 
lifted it daown ’twas the everlastin’ ole 
watch he’d lost an’ done so much growlin’ 
over. I handed it to him, an’ he actooally 
snatched it from my hand as he cried : 

^ My watch, my gran’ther’s watch !’ 

Then a queer look came inter his eyes, 
an’ cornin’ over close beside me he says, 
says he: 

“ ^ Jabez, I remember puttin’ it there my- 
self, but I ain’t thought of it afore. I was 
er tryin’ ter find somethin’ in my pocket, ’n’ 
the fob kep’ bobbin’ so’t I took the watch 
out’n my pocket, ’n’ I forgot ter put it back. 
I didn’t rec’lect tetchin’ the watch ’n’ from 
that day ter this I’ve thought ’twas actooally 
stole right off’n me.’ 

^ I guess ’nother time I wouldn’t be in 
such a rush ter ’cuse a small boy er stealin’ ; 
I’d wait ’til I’d made sure ’twa’n’t some 
loony trick er my own, fust,’ says I, ’n’ a 
more sheepish-lookin’ feller I never seen. 
Yes, sir-ee! He looked as if he’d er given 
suthin’, stingy’s he is, ter hev faound that 
ere watch hisself, ’n’ wouldn’t he hev kep’ 


AT THE VILLAGE STORE 146 
still ’baout it? I vum, I believe he wouldn^t 
never told haow or where he faound it.” 

I s’pose Hi Babson’s tickled ter pieces, 
er ain’t he heard tell ’baout it yet? ” queried 
Joel Simpkins, with a broad grin. 

Oh, he’s heard sure ’nough. The other 
boys, as soon as ’twas aout, run ter tell Hi, 
an’ the leetle scamp declares that he had it 
in his plans ter hide that watch jest ter 
pester Josiah, but, scheme as he would, he 
couldn’t seem ter fetch it. Hi’s pooty nigh 
beside hisself ter think that Josiah hid it 
from hisself.” 

That boy’s ’nough ter try the patience 
of er saint,” declared Sophrony Hodgkins, 
but there’s one thing I will say fer him,” 
she continued, ’n’ that is that he don’t 
never torment any but dis’greeable folks.” 

I do’no’ ’baout that,” said young Meers, 
the miller’s son, the little rascal’s taken er 
notion ter pester Steubenreiser, the head 
man at the mill, ’n’ when I questioned him, 
what d’ye s’pose he ’lows he’s got agin the 
German? ” 


146 RANDY'S GOOD TIMES 

No one feeling able to answer the ques- 
tion, young Meers continued : 

“ Wal, Hi says the big German is too fond 
of the squire’s little Prue, an’ as Hi is 
rather taken that way, he’s jealous, an’ 
spends all his time between schools er tryin’ 
ter git even. Ain’t it comical? Big 
Orlando Steubenreiser an’ that little 
imp. Hi, as rival sweethearts fer little 
Prue ! ” 

“ I’ve seen that,” said Nate Burnham ; 
“ last week I seen ’em, ’twas one day long 
after school. Orlando was er cornin’ from 
the mill, an’ Prue was er tryin’ ter see 
suthin’ in this winder, when up steps Or- 
lando, an’ quick as er wink, he lifts Prue up 
an’ holds her where she can see. 

Ye jest put her daown,’ screeched Hi, 
scowlin’ at the German, an’ shakin’ his little 
fist. 

‘‘^Und vy?’ asked Orlando, kind er 
stupid like. 

‘ ’Cause she’s my girl, an’ I can lift her 
if she wants ter see,’ growled Hi. 


AT THE TILLAGE STORE 147 
Then Steubenreiser laughed and Hi 
clenched his fists an’ looked madder ’n’ a 
hornet.” 

There was a general laugh as they thought 
of the two rivals, the one a huge Ger- 
man, the other a small, wiry, mischievous 
boy, and on the following morning, on the 
way to school a little squabble occurred 
which the grocery store assemblage would 
have found extremely amusing. 

On the stone wall beside the road stood 
Prue, leaning confidingly against Orlando 
Steubenreiser, whose arm was about her lest 
she might take a misstep and fall. In front 
of them stood Hi Babson and Johnny Buf- 
fum; Hi was in a defiant mood and Johnny 
sullenly wrathful. 

“ He ain’t got no right ter walk ter school 
with ye, er big man like him,” grumbled 
Johnny, at the same time casting a reproach- 
ful glance upon Prue. 

’N’ he’s a mean old sneak,” snapped Hi, 
fer I -went up ter call fer ye ’n’ he’d gone 
off with ye fust.” 


148 


RANDTS GOOD TIMES 


I don’t care,” said Prue stoutly, the 
roads was horrid, an’ father’s away to-day, 
’n’ Orlando was going by an’ said he’d carry 
me over the puddles. You couldn’t either 
of you do that I ’Sides,” she added, he 
made me this lovely whistle, an’ I like him 
hestf ’cause he isn’t ever cross.” 

I’ll pay him up fer makin’ ye like him 
best, fer I’ll git in ter the mill an’ set the 
ole saw goin’ the wrong way, an’ I guess 
that’ll smash it, ’n’ then won’t Martin Meers 
be mad ’nough ter eat him? ” questioned 
Hi, in a menacing tone, to which Johnny 
chimed in: 

M-m-m ! ” 

“ Less all be frients,” said the German, 
with a placid smile. 

No, ye don’t,” said Hi, and again Johnny 
seemed to agree, nodding his head as if in 
approval. 

Turning, little Prue whispered to Orlan- 
do, and Orlando nodded assent. 

Will we all be frients if I make two 
whistles, one for each poys?” he asked. 


AT THE VILLAGE STORE 149 

Whistles! Could they resist that glori- 
ous offer? 

‘^Whistles,” repeated Orlando, ^^an^ I 
baints em yellow ! ” 

How their eyes shone! 

^Will ye truly? they eagerly asked. 

“ Dot’s true,” said Steubenreiser. 

^^When can ye let us have ’em?” asked 
Hi. 

Dis day at half-bast five,” was the an- 
swer, and promptly at that hour he stood 
waiting at the schoolhouse gate, the yellow 
wooden whistles in his hand. 

The two small boys saw him, and hurried 
toward him. 

Have ye got ’em?^’ asked Hi. 

Vill we be frients? ” questioned Or- 
lando. 

“ If we get those whistles,” said the boys. 

Orlando held them forth, and Johnny and 
Hi eagerly snatched them. 

Hastily placing them between their lips 
they blew into them, and a long, sweet note 
made answer. 


150 


RANDrS GOOD TIMES 


“ You^re a brick ! ” ejaculated Hi. 

’W the best feller I know,” declared 
Johnny, and Orlando knew that they were 
frients.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE HOLIDAY CLUB 

Aunt Prudence came bustling into the 
kitchen, and Philury Flanders looked up 
from the pan of cake which she was stirring 
to see if the commotion betokened a change 
in the morning’s plans, or only an un- 
usually striking display of energy. 

^^Jest look here, Philury!” exclaimed 
Aunt Prudence. 

I’m er lookin’,” the girl replied, but I 
can’t stop stirrin’ this ’ere cake. It’s got 
ter be stirred five minutes by the clock, an’ 
it’s only goin’ on three minutes naow.” 

I hope it’s got five eggs in it,” said Aunt 
Prudence slyly, and they both laughed as 
they thought of the memorable day on which 
Philury had had her little joke, and had 
used an extra egg in the frosting. 

“ Wal, what I was goin’ ter say hadn’t 
151 


152 


BANDY^S GOOD TIMES 


nothin^ ter do with cake/’ said Aunt Pru- 
dence. “ Ye see, Prue was full of it ’fore 
she went off to school, an’ what she was say- 
in’ beat anything I ever beared tell on. It 
seems that yesterday at school, the children 
was all talkin’ ’baout Christmas ’n’ New 
Year, tellin’ what they expect ter git fer 
presents, an’ one is ter hev a doll, an’ an- 
other, one of the Earnshaws’ cousins whose 
pa’s got consid’able prop’ty, is jest sure 
she’s ter hev er doll’s haouse; that’ll be the 
only one in taown, I guess. Another thinks 
she’s ter git a bran’ new sled, an’ another’s 
got er promise of er pair er skates, and the 
hull endurin’ time they was er talkin’, the 
littlest girl in the craowd stood still an’ 
never said er word. Prue says the other 
children pestered her ’til she began ter cry.” 

“ ‘ Ain’t ye goin’ ter hev nothin’ ? ” asked 
Hitty Buffum, meanin’ ter be kind an’ never 
thinkin’ ter hurt.” 

What did she say? ” questioned Philury, 
whose sympathy was always awakened if 
she thought a child was unfortunate or un- 


THE HOLIDAY CLUB 153 

whose kind eyes plainly showed 
the interest which she felt. 

“ That^s what I’m cornin’ ter,” said Aunt 
Prudence. Prue says the little girl fid- 
geted an’ hes’tated, an’ then beginnin’ ter 
cry again, she said : ‘ Oh, yes. I’ll likely have 
what I always have ; a hood or some rubbers, 
er a caliker dress, an’ I s’pose I’m real 
wicked not to like ’em, Aunt Nabby says I 
am; but once^ jest fer once, I’d like ter hev 
somethin’ that wasn’t er bit useful ; ’ then 
kinder fierce like, she turned ter Hitty, ’n’ 
she said : ^ Oh, I oughtn’t ter say it, but I 
jest long ter hev somethin’ that is real 
foolish — jest pretty, ye know, an’ no use at 
all,’ an’ then Prue says she ran away, an’ 
stayed in the corner er the school-yard alone 
’til recess was over.” 

“ Why, the poor child ! ” said Philury, 
with tears in her eyes, the poor child,” she 
repeated, jest longin’ fer some ribbons, er 
a doll, er a sled, an’ gittin’ nothin’ at all at 
Christmas such as the other children’s 
’baout sure of.” 


164 


RANDY^S GOOD TIMES 


An^ ye know who ’twas, Philury, don’t 
ye? Don’t stop stirrin’ that cake,” said 
Aunt Prudence, questioning and command- 
ing at the same time, 

“ Why no, I do’no ’s I do,” said Philury. 

Then let me tell ye. It’s Mis’ Nabby 
Ware’s little niece. Mis’ Ware’s got money 
ter burn, but she’s so mean that she’s ’baout 
as good as said she wouldn’t give little 
Agatha er home, ’n’ she er lone widder in 
that ’ere big house er hern. Folks said so 
much that Mis’ Ware finally took her, but I 
guess the child ain’t been pampered; an’ 
look at the meanness er the woman, that’ll 
let Christmas go by an’ only give her 
clothes fer presents, which she’d orter hev 
by rights, an’ not er single gift such as all 
children long fer; an’ her an orphan, 
too!” 

Aunt Prudence did not designate which 
was an orphan, the little Agatha, or Mrs. 
Nabby Ware, but Philury knew that the 
little girl was referred to, and her kind 
heart was touched by the picture of childish 


THE HOLIDAY CLUB 155 

loneliness which Aunt Prudence had de- 
scribed. 

Pa always says that Mis’ Nabby Ware 
is one er the meanest critters in existence, 
an’ I know one thing she’s done. She’s got 
Lawyer Everton ter make er will, givin’ all 
the property ter furreign missions. She’d 
actoolly rather give it ter the heathen than 
leave it ter Agatha, what’ll be all alone in 
the world when she’s gone. 

“ Lawyer Everton told her ’twouldn’t 
hold ; that the law would give it ter Agatha, 
bein’s she’s her only kin, an’ her own bro- 
ther’s child, but she was baound ter hev the 
will made, an’ I hope the law will give the 
money where it b’longs. I ain’t so inter- 
ested in the heathen as I’d be in folks that’s 
near at hand,” concluded Philury. 

Why, I shouldn’t wonder ef that ’ere 
cake was beat too long, Philury,” said Aunt 
Prudence ; ye’ve been beatin’ all the time 
whilst ye been talkin’, which is quite er 
spell.” 

It looks all right,” Philury answered, 


156 


RANDY'S GOOD TIMES 


lifting a little of the mixture in her spoon 
and allowing it to drop back into the pan. 

It looks better’n usual ; guess the next 
time I make that kind, I’ll git ye ter set 
me talkin’ while I beat the cake.” 

Aunt Prudence laughed with her, but a 
moment later she reverted to the subject 
which was uppermost in her mind. 

I keep er thinkin’ er little Agatha, er 
longin’ fer the pretty things that most chil- 
dren hanker fer, ’n’ the others er teasin’ her 
ter tell ’em what she expects,” said Aunt 
Prudence. 

In the pleasant sitting room, Kandy and 
Eunice Earnshaw paused in their merry 
chat. 

Oh, Eunice,” said Randy, I heard Prue 
telling about that this morning. Why 
should the other children make Agatha so 
unhappy by teasing and questioning her? ” 

Eunice’s eyes were very tender as she 
said : “ They don’t intend to be unkind ; it is 
only that they are thoughtless. I’m sorry 


THE HOLIDAY CLUB 


157 


for the little girl. Who is she, Kandy? 
You know I have been here such a short 
time that there are many people in the town 
who are strangers to me.’^ 

“ She is a pretty child/’ said Randy, and 
her home is with Mrs. Ware who, as Aunt 
Prudence says, never willingly sheltered 
her. What would Sandy McLeod think of 
Mrs. Ware, I wonder, if he knew what an 
unhappy home she is making for her little 
niece? ” 

But if he knew,” said Eunice, “ he could 
do nothing to make Agatha’s lot pleasanter, 
for while Mrs. Ware is, as you say, unwill- 
ing to do much for her, she might resent in- 
terference.” 

After Eunice had gone, Randy sat by the 
window still thinking of Agatha, whose pen- 
sive little face had always appealed to her, 
and when Aunt Prudence came in from the 
kitchen, she was still puzzling over a ques- 
tion which she could not solve. 

What ye studyin’ aout, Randy? ” said 
Aunt Prudence. 


158 


BANBY^S GOOD TIMES 


I’ll tell you pretty soon/’ Randy an- 
swered, it is something through which I 
half see my way, but the other half is not 
quite clear.” 

Laying her hands upon Randy’s shoul- 
ders, and looking kindly into her eyes, Aunt 
Prudence spoke with unusual gentleness: 

Ef ye git too puzzled come ter me, an’ 
ef it’s in my paower. I’ll help ye,” she said. 

As if I did not know that,” Randy re- 
plied, and I am sure I shall need you if 
my wish comes true, as Prue says. Then 
how gladly I should turn to you. Aunt Pru- 
dence, for counsel and help.” 

A few days after this conversation Randy 
stood knocking at Sandy McLeod’s door, 
her father having sent him some papers con- 
taining articles relating to Glasgow, believ- 
ing that the old Scotchman would enjoy 
reading them. 

His delight had been evident, as with 
flushed cheeks and flashing eyes he had 
shown the marked columns to his wife, say- 
ing; 


THE HOLIDAY CLUB 159 
^‘Look, Margaret, look! The articles 
were sent tae the American papers frae bon- 
nie Scotland, an’ they tell aboot Glasgow. 
Ah! that wall be fine readin’, an’ I must 
think of some favor tae do in return. He’s 
a braAV friend, yer faether, an’ a gude friend, 
as week” 

Father was very glad to send them, and 
I am very happy to have brought them,” 
said Eandy, her smiling face vouching for 
the truth of what she said. 

I almost forgot a message which Prue 
begged me to deliver. She said : ^ Tell them 
I send my love to them, and that I’ll call 
soon and bring the kittens.’ ” 

Bless the bairn ! ” exclaimed Sandy. 

She’s like a ray o’ sunlight whene’er she 
slips in at the door ; I’m told she’s the blithe 
ane o’ a’ the merry lads and lassies at the 
(Zee-strict school. But there’s ane amang 
the brood wha hae’ sae sad a face, it makes 
me like tae greet when I see her ; ’tis the wee 
lass, Agatha, wha lives wi’ the widow 
Ware; that woman wi’ the dour, scowling 


160 RANDrS GOOD TIMES 
face. IVe nae likin^ fer her; an’ the little 
lass shows plain that nae kindness is gi’en 
her.” 

Sandy, Sandy, ye maun be slow tae 
judge,” said his wife, her gentle face wear- 
ing an anxious expression as she turned to- 
ward Eandy. 

“ He’s sae fond o’ the little anes that he 
canna bear that they should look aught but 
gay,” she said, lest Randy should think 
her dear old Sandy harsh and blunt of 
speech. 

Hoot, Margaret, ye dear woman ! Ye 
wad make excuses fer me, but I need nane. 
Every ane here aboot knows the widow 
Ware tae be dour an’ a’ that’s nae kind an’ 
agreeable, an’ ’tis yerseP that’s oft spoken 
o’ the wee Agatha an’ her listless ways. I 
wad that some brightness might come tae 
dhe lass.” 

Oh, I wish it, too,” said Randy, and then 
she told the dear old couple of the day at 
school, when all but Agatha had been 
eagerly talking of the merry Christmas time. 


TEE HOLIDAY CLUB 161 

and the presents which they hoped to re- 
ceive. 

“ I have been thinking I should like to 
send her some of the pretty things which 
children prize,” she said, but Mrs. Ware 
is able to do for Agatha if she would, and I 
am almost sure that she would be offended 
if gifts were sent.” 

For a moment they were silent. Then 
Sandy said : 

I wonder if it could na be done in this 
way. There’s mair than ane in the town 
wha’ hae few gifts, or nane at a’. Noo could 
we na make it a parish affair fer o’ the chil- 
dren? Say a gatherin’ o’ bairns at the kirk, 
an’ a deestribution o’ sma’ gifts, wi’ some- 
thing for a’ ? ” 

“ Oh, do you think we could do that? ” 
cried Randy, her hands eagerly clasped, and 
her face aglow with pleasure. 

If my Sandy’s got his mind on it, it’ll 
sure be done,” said Mrs. McLeod, with an 
approving glance toward him. 

It wad nae cost o’er muckle,” said 


162 


RANDY^S GOOD TIMES 


Sandy, an’ the expense I’ll look to, if you 
an’ some o’ the ither grown lassies like yer- 
sel’ will lend yer deft fingers tae help me, 
fer there wad be a few dolls tae make gowns 
fer, an a few ither things needin’ needle an’ 
thread, an’ quick young fingers tae apply 
tae the task. If a’ are remembered, then 
Agatha will sure have her share, an’ her 
guardian wi’ the scowlin’ face canna com- 
plain.” 

The old Scotchman squared his broad 
shoulders, and lifted his chin a bit, as he 
glanced toward his wife as if to say : Ye 
can nae but approve o’ that.” 

^‘Aye, Sandy, ye blessed lad ! ” exclaimed 
Mrs. McLeod, as if her husband had been a 
small boy. 

Ye carry the day wi’ a gude deed plan- 
ned, an’ this sweet lass, Randy, is o’er glad 
tae help ye. Noo, I’ll nae be idle ; I’ll make 
mony wee bags o’ bits o’ bright silk, an’ fill 
them a’ wi’ sugar plums o’ my ain makin’. 
There shall ne’er be gift makin’ fer the 
bairnies when I miss the joy o’ contributin’. 


THE HOLIDAY CLUB 


163 


The Dominie shall tell me how many bairns 
there be in the kirk^ an^ a braw bag for each 
shall be ready in gude time. 

And a day o’ fine doin’s I’ll hae in the 
city wi’ the toy shops tae buy oot ; I smile 
tae think that the mony parcels will come 
by express, an^ lads an’ lassies doon by the 
station seein’ me cornin’ hame wi’ empty 
hands will ne’er dream o’ the schemin’ fer 
their pleasure.” 

“ To think that not one will be forgotten ! 
And it is all because of your kindness. I 
only thought of it. It is you who will ac- 
tually do it,” said Randy. 

“ Hoot, lass ! Ye could na say that. It 
ne’er came in my mind ’til ye put it there, 
an’ e’en noo I ask yer help taegither wi’ yer 
friends. Think ye that Phoebe wad come 
fer the askin’?” he questioned. 

I am sure she would,” Randy answered, 
and Eunice Earnshaw will be eager too 
when I tell her of your plan.” 

Eunice?” questioned Sandy. 

‘^Aye, Sandy/’ prompted Mrs. McLeod, 


164 RANDT8 GOOD TIMES 
Eunice Earnshaw, wha has the gentle 
face, an’ wha came tae the Langhams’ house 
in the bonnie springtime.” 

I know the lass, an’ I’d ken she’d be 
kind,” Sandy replied. 

It was decided that he should make a trip 
to Boston the following Monday, and upon 
his return the girls should be notified of the 
first day appointed for a meeting of the 
Holiday Club,” as Randy had named it. 

Ye shall a’ meet in my cheery sittin’ 
room, an’ while ye make the dolls gay wi’ 
ribbons an’ bits o’ lace. I’ll make the braw 
little bags fer the sugar plums,” said Mrs. 
McLeod, who anticipated great pleasure in 
the company of the girls. 

Eunice Earnshaw willingly promised to 
be at the McLeod house on the day ap- 
pointed. Phoebe was not especially inter- 
ested in planning pleasures for the chil- 
dren, but she felt fiattered that Randy 
should have asked her assistance, and prom- 
ised to join them. Randy met Chlorinda 
Bates and hastened to give her an invitation, 


THE HOLIDAY CLUB 165 

Chlorinda^s manner was not really ungraci- 
ous, but Randy thought her answer pecu- 
liar. 

Should ye hev invited me ef ye hadn’t 
met me? ” 

Why, certainly,” Randy replied, her 
face betraying the surprise which she felt, 
while she thought, What a strange ques- 
tion to ask ! ” 

After a pause, Chlorinda said : 

Wal, I’ll come ef ye want I should. I’d 
like well ’nough ter meet ye all ; do’no ’s 
I’m ’specially fond er makin’ playthings, 
but I’ll come ter ’com’date.” 

Was it strange that Randy longed to tell 
the rude girl that they could get on without 
her? 

‘^I don’t often wish it,” she thought, “ but 
sometimes it would be a relief to tell people 
just what we think.” Then a smile chased 
away the little pained look and she said, 
almost in a whisper, as she hurried along 
the road: 

“ One would have but few friends if one 


166 RANDY’S GOOD TIMES 

risked saying what lay uppermost in one’s 

mind.” 

Promptly on the day appointed, Sandy 
McLeod stood upon the platform at the 
station, his cheeks reddened by the frosty 
air, and his eyes twinkling under the visor 
of his fur cap. Impatiently he waited for 
the train, eager to be off, and when with a 
shriek of the whistle it at last appeared 
around the bend, Sandy, with a curious ex- 
pression, half smiling and half frowning, 
muttered : 

Weel, it’s aboot time ye came, aboot 
time.” 

The sky was overcast, and here and there 
a snowflake came fluttering down, when at 
twilight Sandy stepped from the train, look- 
ing, for all the world, like Santa Claus. 
His arms were full of packages, and a large 
box was deposited in his wagon. 

Been buying Boston aout fer the holi- 
days? ” questioned the station master. But 


THE HOLIDAY CLUB 167 

Sandy held up a warning finger as he 
said: 

Hist, noo ! A secretes nae langer a secret 
when it’s tellit. I maun keep my ain coun- 
sel.” 

The man laughed good-naturedly, laying 
his hand upon Sandy’s arm as he said: 

“ Ye’re planning deeds er pleasure an’ 
surprises fer some one, I’ll be baound, an’ 
it’s like ye, ye old saint ! I’ll not even tell 
er the parcels I seen, an’ I’ll wait ’til ye’re 
good an’ ready ter tell what ye’re up ter.” 

On a sunny afternoon the girls assembled 
in Mrs. McLeod’s sitting room and as they 
came in out of the crisp air, they all agreed 
that they never had seen a brighter, cheerier 
place in which to hold a meeting. The logs 
blazing in the fireplace, the warm-hued rugs 
upon the fioor, the heap of bright bits of 
silk and ribbons upon the table, the quaint 
little hostess herself, with her pleasant 
smile and hearty greeting, all combined to 
make their welcome seem warm and sincere. 


168 RANDY’S GOOD TIMES 
Eunice Earnsliaw had never been to the 
McLeod house, and she was filled with ad- 
miration for its beautiful antique furnish- 
ings. 

Noo sit ye doon, ye bonnie lassies, but 
first lay off yer wraps, an’ then we’ll hae 
some wee cups o’ steamin’ tea an’ some sma’ 
cakes tae warm ye, an’ then in earnest we’ll 
make the needles fly,” said Mrs. McLeod, 
bustling about to serve her guests, and while 
the girls were enjoying the little treat, she 
told them that Janie was wi’ the music 
maester, an’ would na’ be hame ’til dark, 
when Sandy fetched her. Janie can keep a 
secret tho’,” she concluded, “an’ she’ll nae 
tell aboot our meetin’s.” 

“ Aunt Prudence promises to knit tiny 
hoods for all the dolls,” said Kandy, “ and 
father thinks that his gift of a silver dime 
for each bag will be acceptable.” 

“ Aye, hae I nae often said that the Squire 
an’ my Sandy hae hearts made o’ the same 
piece? The little lads an’ lassies here aboot 
dinna see a penny often. I’m thinkin’ a 


169 


THE HOLIDAY CLUB 

bright dime amang the sugar plums will 
make their een glisten/’ 

Eunice forgot her shyness, and chatted 
gayly with Randy, Phoebe and Mrs. McLeod. 

J list see the little gown which Eunice 
has just completed for the blonde doll. 
Isn’t it pretty, girls? ” 

^‘Lovely! Just a beauty!” they ex- 
claimed, as Randy held it up for them to 
admire. 

It makes the doll look like a royal leddy. 
Ane o’ the quality,” said Mrs. McLeod. 

I’m dressing this one to look as Randy 
did at the costume festival,” declared 
Phoebe, and sure enough, there was the 
quaint silk gown, with a bit of lace twisted 
about the neck for a kerchief, and while she 
talked she was busily fashioning a copy of 
the silk pelerine which Randy had worn and 
lost on that memorable night. It was 
cleverly done, and Phoebe was freely com- 
plimented for her skill. 

One girl silently looked at the little 
waxen beauty which Phoebe had dressed. 


170 BANDY’S GOOD TIMES 
She uttered no word of praise and then, 
suddenly laying her work upon the table, 
she turned toward Mrs. McLeod and said: 

I guess I can^t sew any longer this after- 
noon. My head aches and I think Vd better 
go home. P’raps I’ll come another day 
when ye meet. You can jest as well stay, 
B’lindy, ye’ve no call ter go because I do 
and turning so as to avoid seeing the evident 
surprise of the other girls, Jemima Babson 
hastily fastened her cloak about her, hardly 
turning to answer Mrs. McLeod, who stood 
looking after her and expressing the hope 
that she would soon feel better. 

Does yer sister often hev spells like 
that? ” asked Chlorinda Bates, who, until 
that moment had not spoken since she en- 
tered the room. 

Why, no,” said Belinda, “ I can’t think 
what ails her, though she’s been kind er 
dumpish the past week.” 

Randy felt truly sorry for Jemima, and 
thus mentally scolded herself for her almost 
uncontrollable desire to laugh. It was not 


THE HOLIDAY CLUB 171 

that she thought Jemima’s sudden leave- 
taking amusing ; indeed, she wondered much 
if the girl were ill, but that Belinda should 
call her sudden indisposition dumpish,” 
seemed to Randy an odd word to use. 

Sympathy was not a noticeable trait in 
either of the Babson girls. 


CHAPTER IX 


prue’s bargain 

The Holiday Club held its meetings 
regularly at the McLeod house, and merry 
meetings they were, for Mrs. McLeod was 
delighted to have the girls with her, and 
there w^as always a tempting little spread 
awaiting them when they tapped at the 
door. Janie had appointed herself in- 
quirer ” for the club, and much useful in- 
formation had been gathered by her tactful 
questioning. 

She was a great favorite with all the chil- 
dren, and it was an easy matter for the little 
Scotch lass to win their confidence and 
learn what each most dearly coveted. 

Those who hoped for Christmas gifts, and 
those who expected nothing, alike confided 
their preferences to Janie, and of all the 
172 


PRUWS BARGAIN 


173 


little tales to which she gently listened, 
Agatha’s seemed most pitiful. 

She could not remember her mother, and 
her father had been a seafaring man, so 
that his little daughter had but a pleasant 
memory of a quiet, kindly man who at long 
interval^ came home with little treasures 
which pleased Agatha, and bound her to 
him, making her dread his departure, and 
cry bitterly when he bade her good-bye. 
Then for weeks she would leave her few toys 
to bend over the box in which she kept her 
string of corals, her shells, and star-fishes, 
but the weeks would stretch out into months 
when she would be drearily lonely. 

When her father was lost at sea, she went 
to live with her aunt, Mrs. Nabby Ware. 
She had been living with a woman who had 
been kind, if not affectionate, but she was 
poor, and when, with the death of Agatha’s 
father, the money for her board ceased to 
come, it became a necessity that her aunt 
should assume the care of Agatha. 

One afternoon Janie and Agatha sat side 


174 RANDTS GOOD TIMES 
by side at recess upon one end of the plat- 
form near the teacher’s desk. 

It was a stormy day, and, with the excep- 
tion of a few of the larger boys, the pupils 
remained in the schoolroom. 

Janie was far too wise to ask her com- 
panion what gifts would give her most 
pleasure. She was a politic little lass, and 
her tactics were amusing. She asked 
no questions ; she knew that assertions, 
with Agatha, would be far more success- 
ful. 

I hope when Christmas comes I’ll find 
mony gay ribbon snoods for my hair,” said 
Janie, for, oh, I do love the braw ribbons 
in plaids of a’ colors.” 

I like ribbons,” said Agatha, “ but I’d 
rather have something else.” 

Why? ” questioned Janie. 

“ ’Cause I always have something that’s 
clothes, and I know ribbons aren’t clothes, 
but ” 

Janie appeared not to notice the incom- 
plete sentence. 



Janie tells Sandy her conversation with Agatha. 

Page 175, 



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PRUW8 BARGAIN 175 

I^m hoping for some candy,” said Janie, 
thus tempting Agatha to agree. 

I^d like some candy, but I won’t get 
any,” said Agatha, “ for Aunt Nabby says 
candy is er foolish spendin’ er money, but 
what I want most, an’ what I certain won’t 
get, is a doll with real, truly hair, an’ one 
er them balls what’s covered with bright- 
colored worsted, all knitted for a cover. I 
don’t know how they do it, but Hitty Buf- 
fum’s got one, ’n’ she says her ma bought 
the ball at Barnes’s store, an’ then knit the 
cover for it. Hitty’s ball is lovely, but 
Aunt Nabby wouldn’t get one for me, it’s 
no use ter ask her. She says children don’t 
need toys near as much as the heathen need 
clothes.” 

Then drawing close to Janie, with a 
guilty look she whispered : 

“ I’m ’fraid I’m awful wicked, but I do 
just hate those heathens.” 

Every word of this conversation Janie 
repeated to Sandy when, after tea they sat 
before the blazing log fire. 


176 


RANDTS GOOD TIMES 


“ Aye, Margaret, listen tae the tale. An’ 
nae gift the bairn expects, savin’ the hood 
an’ mittens that auld Nabby Ware hae tae 
gie her for the looks o’ it. An’ where are 
the heathen, tell me that? Not a’ the 
heathen live in heathen lands ! Auld Nabby 
Ware is ane o’ the worst heathen I hae seen, 
wi’ a’ her goold tae let the blessed Christ- 
mas gang by, an’ nae gift for the little waif 
that heaven sent tae her door. A doll, an’ 
a ball is a’ she asks, an’ dinna dream o’ pos- 
sessin’ that! Margaret, it’s a braw bag 
we’ll fill for little Agatha.” 

“ Her bag shall be the scarlet satin ane 
I made yestere’en, an’ the doll shall be the 
ane wi’ flaxen curls that opes and shuts her 
een,” said Margaret. 

And the ball, oh, don’t forget the 
ball,” said Janie, “ she wants that most of 
all,” 

“ The ball an a braw lot o’ sweets shall 
be there,” said Sandy, an’ I’ve a mind tae 
gie Dominie Spooner a text tae preach frae. 
I’ll ask him tae expound an’ exhort upon 


PEUE'S BARGAIN 


177 


‘ The heathen we hae aboot us a^ the time/ 
wi' a gude sharp rap fer the kind wha are 
nane too good tae the little lads an' lassies 
in their care." 

“ Oh, the darin' o' it, Sandy. Ye're 
muckle bold wi' the gude man," said Mar- 
garet. 

A' the same, ye listen Sunday, an', Mar- 
garet, ye'll nae tremble when he drubs the 
heathen, fer ye weel know ye're the salt o' 
the earth." 

Noo, Sandy, dear, ye fain would spoil 
me," said Margaret, a happy smile upon her 
fine old face. 

Spoil ye ! " said Sandy in fine disdain. 

It couldna be done." 

Faithfully the young girls worked upon 
the little gifts, all but Chlorinda enjoying 
the task. She was not absent from any one 
of the meetings, but Randy felt sure that she 
had been interested only in becoming better 
acquainted with the girls of the village, tak- 
ing no pleasure whatever in the work, or 


178 RANDrS GOOD TIMES 
in anticipating the children’s delight when 
the gifts should be distributed. 

Jemima Babson came but once after 
that first afternoon when she had left so 
abruptly, and she had seemed so listless 
that Phoebe Small had asked her if she was 
not feeling well. 

Well ’nough,” Jemima had replied, 
only sort er peaked.” 

She seems ter feel better ’most any- 
where but here,” said Belinda with her 
usual lack of tact. 

1 thought we were a’ havin’ merry times 
at our meetin’s,” said Margaret McLeod 
plaintively, her gentle face showing her dis- 
appointment, for she had in every way tried 
to make the afternoons pleasant. 

Why, Mrs. McLeod, we all enjoy the 
meetings,” said Randy quickly, the girls 
have all declared that they would not miss 
one if it were possible to attend. Jemima 
isn’t well, that is all, and she cannot enjoy 
them as she would if she were quite herself.” 
Jemima glanced at Randy, who so earn- 


PRUW8 BARGAIN 


179 


estly endeavored to make a plea for her, 
and at the same time to comfort their 
hostess, lest Belinda’s blunt words had 
grieved her, then murmuring something to 
the effect that she was ‘‘ feelin’ a little more 
peaked ’n usual,” she hastily left the room. 

“ She seems well ’nough at home,” said 
Belinda, “ but the minute she gits here or 
anywheres where the girls are together she 
has one er these queer spells,” and her voice 
bespoke little sympathy. 

The two girls were unlike in character 
and disposition, and seldom were sisters less 
intimate than Belinda and Jemima Babson. 

The other members of the Holiday 
Club ” worked with redoubled energy as if 
to make up for Jemima’s lack of interest, 
and one bright afternoon they saw their 
tasks completed. 

“An’ wha’ may goold be for if we nae 
spend it? ” Sandy queried, when praised by 
Parson Spooner for his lavishness. “ I hae 
saved a’ my life, an’ I hae a’ that my Max"- 


180 


RANDT8 GOOD TIMES 


garet can use, an^ a gude sum tae leave wee 
Janie. Noo, am I nae doin’ right tae make 
ithers glad wi’ the prosperity that hae been 
gi’en me? ” 

And the good old parson with tears in 
his eyes, laid his hand gently upon Sandy’s 
as he said : 

I wish that every one made as wise use 
of the means which God has given him.” 

An’ ane thing I kenned ; that is I’d nae 
wish my Christmas cheer tae be ane sided; 
these braw gifts are for the little lads and 
lassies, but if ye hae in mind a few i’ the 
parish wha are auld, an’ nae o’er weel off, 
it’ll be a basket wi’ flour, an’ tea, an’ sugar 
frae friend Barnes’s store ye’ll be orderin’ 
at my expense, while nae a word ye’ll say 
whence it came.” 

Ah, Sandy, Sandy ! You are a blessing 
to us all,” said Parson Spooner. 

Sandy took off his tarn and bent his head 
as he said: 

“ I’m but tryin’ tae balance my faults wi’ 
a few gude deeds.” 


PRUE'S BARGAIN 


181 


The balance has long been in favor of 
the good/^ said the parson. 

Prne had been told of the meetings of the 

Holiday Club ” after she had promised 
faithfully “ not to tell.” She was very 
proud to have Randy entrust so great a 
secret to her keeping, and on the following 
day had walked into school with such an 
air of importance that Hitty Buffum^s 
curiosity was aroused. 

What ye feelin’ big ’baout? ” she whis- 
pered. 

Oh, something,” whispered Prue in an- 
swer, and Hitty considered the reply any- 
thing but satisfying, and at once decided 
that at recess time she would prod Prue un- 
mercifully. 

Accordingly, while the two were swinging 
upon the schoolyard gate, Hitty com- 
menced to question Prue. 

“ WhaPs in yer head that makes yer hold 
it up so high ? ” she asked. 

Oh, something,” Prue again replied. 


m RANDTS GOOD TIMES 

‘^ That’s no good/^ said Hitty; why 
don’t you tell it, if it’s so dreadful nice as 
ye make aout? ” 

I didn’t say ’twas nice,” said Prue. 

Well, His all the same, er ye wouldn’t 
act so,” said Hitty, piqued that Prue could 
withstand her questioning. 

Hi ! ” she called, believing that in Hi 
Babson she could find an ally ; come here 
a minute.” 

If Hitty had been alone, Hi would not 
have stirred, but seeing little Prue, of whom 
he was very fond, he hastened toward them 
and mounted the gate post, where he sat 
watching Prue. 

She knows something awful nice, ’n’ she 
won’t tell me what ’tis,” said Hitty. “ You 
make her tell. Hi, you can, if ye’re er mind 
ter.” 

Thus fiattered. Hi essayed the task. 

‘‘Do ye know somethin’ fine? ” he asked. 

“ M-m,” said Prue, nodding and smiling. 

“ Goin’ ter tell me what ’tis? ” queried 
Hi. 


PRUW8 BARGAIN 183 

Prue shook her curly head and continued 
to swing upon the gate. 

I got er stick er lickerish^ ’n’ er piece er 
gum, ^n’ 1^11 give ^em ter yer, ef ye’ll tell,” 
urged Hi; will ye?” 

Again Prue shook her head. 

The bell rang, and Hitty thought that 
with recess at an end, the secret would not 
be learned for at least two hours more, and 
two hours to wait when one is inquisitive, 
seems an eternity. 

Oh, do make her tell. Hi, ’fore we go in,” 
she said. 

Want me ter drag yer home all the way 
on my new sled?” asked Hi. 

Will you give me the gum and the 
lickerish, too?” asked Prue, intent upon 
securing a bargain. 

Yes, sir-ee ! ” said Hi, ’n’ I’ll drag ye 
clean up ter the door ef ye’ll promise ter tell 
me somethin’ when I git there.” 

All right,” said Prue, and promptly at 
four, Hi’s new sled stood waiting to make 
the trip. Prue held out her hand to receive 


184 RANDY’S GOOD TIMES 
the gum and licorice as if she were a 
princess who condescended to accept a 
gift. 

Then seating herself upon the sled, she 
drew her cloak about her, and Hi com- 
menced his long tramp up the hill. Hitty 
looked after them, and wondered where her 
share of the fun came in. She resolved to 
tease Hi into telling her on the morrow, the 
wonderful secret which he believed he was 
to learn from Prue. Up the long hill he 
trudged in silence, his wee lady keeping her 
counsel as she sat erect upon the sled, and 
her brown eyes twinkled as they peeped out 
from beneath her curls. 

“ ITl keep Randy’s secret, and keep my 
promise to Hi, too,” she whispered. 

As they drew up at the door-stone, Hi 
turned and demanded the secret as pay- 
ment. 

You wait ’til I get to the door,” said 
Prue. 

She sprang from the sled, and up onto 
the door-stone. Then, with her hand upon 


PRUE^S BARGAIN 185 

the latch, she bent toward the expectant 
Hi. 

I can’t tell you much,” said the little 
witch, ’cause I promised not to, but this I 
will tell: something just fine is going to 
happen,” and she flew in at the door, laugh- 
ing gleefully, leaving Hi to wonder if the 
information gained were worth the price 
which he had paid. 


CHAPTER X 


AUNT NABBY WAKENS AWAKENING 

On Sunday Parson Spooner preached 
from a text which Sandy McLeod had sug- 
gested. It was true that the genial old 
Scotchman had not selected the verse, but 
he had spoken to the parson regarding the 
fact that while the parishioners were much 
interested in the heathen, there were many 
among them who could not be induced to 
contribute toward the aid of a neighbor or 
friend. 

An^ could ye nae rap the dour woman, 
Agatha’s guardian, tae make her be gude tae 
the lonely little lass? Nae a gentle rap, 
dominie,” he concluded, but a gude hard 
thump.” 

Parson Spooner struggled to hide his 
amusement, but in spite of his endeavor the 
186 


NABBY WARB^S AWAKENING 187 

laugh became audible, and Sandy joined in 
it. 

Weel, I dinna mean tae be rough, but I 
think her conscience is o^er hard, an’ nae- 
thin’ but a drubbin’ will wake it,” said 
Sandy. 

The sermon was a strong and earnest ap- 
peal, and at its close the parson said: 

I hope the words which I have spoken 
may awaken in you a genuine desire to deal 
kindly and lovingly, and above all things 
generously with those who are in your 
homes, or have, through misfortune, been 
given into your care. It is right that we 
should give what we can to send teachers 
to foreign shores, but our interest and zeal 
for the welfare of the heathen must not 
cause us to forget our charges at home.” 

Then turning toward the McLeod pew he 
beckoned to Janie, who immediately has- 
tened toward him. 

We will now listen to a solo, the words 
for which were written especially for this 
service,” he said. 


188 RANDTS GOOD TIMES 

How sweet the child^s voice sounded; 
how clear and bell-like its tones ! 

“ Count well the blessings which Heaven hath granted, 
With thankful spirit obey His behest, 

And of the bounty which we are enjoying, 

Let us give freely to others less blest. 

“ Offer then succor and aid to the stranger, 

Give kindly words of good counsel and cheer. 

And while thou’rt sending to outcast and stranger. 
Always remember the poor who are near.” 

Was it a happening that the gentle eyes 
of the little lass rested upon Mrs. Nabby 
Ware when she commenced to sing the clos- 
ing verse? 

*' Heathen there are who are claiming our mercy. 
Freely we give, and as for them we pray. 

Let us remember the little ones near us 

Who plead for our love and our care every day.” 

Janie’s singing had moved many hearts, 
but could it be possible that one who had 
ever seemed impervious to music or admoni- 
tion was for once made to see her fault as 
others saw it? Surely something had come 
over the proud spirit of Mrs. Nabby Ware. 
Her eyes were covered by her gloved hand, 


NABBY WARE’S AWAKENING 189 
and Agatha, as she turned to whisper a 
word of praise for her little friend’s singing, 
saw a solitary tear roll down the hard 
cheek and drop upon the folds of her 
shawl. 

The child was frightened. Aunt Nabby 
had never been known to shed a tear. A 
moment the little girl hesitated, looking at 
the silent figure with wide open eyes. Then 
in true sympathy she laid her hand upon 
the strong arm Avhich had never caressed 
her, as she whispered softly: 

Does your head ache worser ’n’ it did 
yesterday? I’m awful sorry if it does ; does 
it? ” she persisted, for there was something 
so strange in the attitude of one who had 
always been cold and austere, that Agatha 
longed to see her move, and to hear her 
speak. She felt that Aunt Nabby must 
feel desperately ill to cry; she always said 
that tears were idle.” 

Keceiving no answering word, the little 
girl became even more alarmed. 

Please, Aunt Nabby, do you feel just 


190 


RANDrS GOOD TIMES 


awful? Let’s go home, an’ I’ll find the cam- 
phor,” she whispered excitedly. 

She knew that the camphor bottle was 
Aunt Nabby’s panacea for headache. With- 
out removing her hand from her eyes, the 
woman bent toward the litle girl and whis- 
pered softly: 

“ I do’no ’s I ever felt wuss, Agatha, but 
I know I shall feel better right away.” 

Oh,” said Agatha, surprised that Aunt 
Nabby felt so sure, for she supposed the 
tears which she had seen had been caused 
by uncommonly severe headache, and she 
wondered how it was to be so quickly 
cured. 

Parson Spooner said a few gentle words 
regarding the influence of music, and fin- 
ished his discourse with an earnest appeal, 
reminding his people that not all could give 
largely, but that each could give a tithe of 
what he had, and that all could give a smile 
or a kindly word. 

“Especially do I ask consideration for 
the children,” he said. 


NABBY WARE'8 AWAKENING 191 
“ Remember that when a little child has 
done wrong, a gentle word will often be far 
more effective than a harsh rebuke. And 
when the child has done well, see then that 
yon are as ready to give a gentle word of en- 
couragement and cheer.’^ 

Then he announced that there would be 
a festival for the children on the following 
Wednesday evening, and briefly he told of 
the work of the young girls of the parish, 
with the very substantial aid of Sandy Mc- 
Leod. 

Miss Randy Weston has planned this 
little event, and with the aid of her dear 
friends has arranged an evening which will 
delight the children, and she wishes me to 
urge that every child be present.’^ 

Agatha’s eyes grew very round. A bright, 
happy evening with the other children! 

What a fine thing to anticipate, and only 
until Wednesday to wait! Then her smile 
grew less radiant. Perhaps Aunt Nabby 
would not approve. 

May I go, Aunt Nabby? ” she whispered. 


192 


RANDY’S GOOD TIMES 


I’d so like to go with the other children, 
an’ I love Eandy Weston.” 

I’ll let ye go, an’ ” 

An’ what. Aunt Nabby?” 

The hurriedly whispered words nearly 
took away Agatha’s breath. 

An’ I mean, some day, ye shall learn to 
love me,” she said. 

The last words were almost inaudible, 
but the quick little ears had caught them, 
and the hungry heart of the child eagerly 
drank them in. 

Oh, Aunt Nabby, I’ll be glad to love you 
if you want me to. I’ve no one else to 
love.” 

The woman’s hand closed over the little 
hand which met hers halfway, and an in- 
articulate sound as of a faint sob made 
Agatha look up, but Aunt Nabby was not 
crying now, and the little girl thought that 
she must have been mistaken. 

Of one thing Agatha was very sure, how- 
ever. Aunt Nabby was holding her hand 
as they walked down the aisle, and oh, won- 


NABBY WABE’8 AWAKENING 193 
der of wonders, Aunt Nabby wanted her to 
love her! 

It had been agreed that the children 
should meet in the vestry and have a little 
“ sociable,” quite as their elders did, and 
then the gifts should be distributed when 
all who were coming would be present. 

The girls had expected enthusiasm upon 
the part of the children, but they were 
wholly unprepared for the wild joy with 
which the gifts were received. 

Jest look at my bat,” shouted Johnny 
Buffum, “it’ll bust any ball what comes 
nigh it ! ” 

“An’ look at my doll, Johnny,” cried 
Hitty, “ there never was one half as 
nice.” 

“ ’Tis pooty,” agreed Johnny, which was 
great praise, as he despised dolls. 

“Cricky,” ejaculated Hi Babson, as he 
received a fine jackknife and a top 
and a bag of marbles, “air they all fer 
me?” 


194 


EANDT8 GOOD TIMED 


‘‘ A’ fer ye, lad,^^ answered Sandy. 

^^Jiminy! I guess I’ll hev ter begin ter 
behave ter pay fer these,” said Hi. 

A little lame boy, when a light wagon was 
given him, immediately climbed into it, and 
working his way in it about the vestry, cried 
excitedly : 

Look, look, I kin go almost like run- 
nin’,” which clearly showed his delight, as 
his progress was slow with the injured leg 
and a crutch. His little sister, who had 
never possessed a doll, took the one which 
Randy offered her, and sitting down upon 
the floor, commenced to show her motherly 
instinct by singing it to sleep. How her 
eyes shone as with tender care she folded a 
corner of her apron over the doll’s head, 
lest a draught might chill it. 

Of all that merry company, not one was 
happier than Agatha. 

Mrs. McLeod placed the bright hued ball 
in her hand, and before she could express 
her delight, Randy held up a lovely doll for 
her to admire. 


NABBY WARWS AWAKENING 195 

Is that fer mef’ she cried. Truly fer 
me?’^ 

Truly for you,” said Randy, smiling at 
the little eager face. 

Agatha, with bright, happy tears in her 
eyes, took the doll, marveling at its beauty, 
and at her own good fortune. 

Oh, she’s a beauty, an’ the ball’s what I 
wanted most,” she said. 

As she clasped her gifts, the remembrance 
of yet another delightful bit of fortune 
caused her to lift a beaming face toward the 
two friends who were watching her closely. 

I’m so glad to have these lovely things,” 
she said ; then with an exultant tone she 
whispered eagerly : 

I’ve got somethin’ else, what nobody 
knows but jest me ’n’ Aunt Nabby. She’s 
goin’ ter love me, love me,” she repeated, 
“ an’ she wants me to love her. Oh, I’m 
glad ter have these pretty presents, when 
I didn’t know I was ter have ’em, but I’m 
almost gladder ter hev Aunt Nabby love 
jne.” 


196 


RANDY’S GOOD TIMES 


Aye, that ye be,” said Mrs. McLeod, an’ 
it wad be a strange woman wha wadna love 
ye, bairnie.” 

We all love you, Agatha,” said Kandy, 

yon must remember that, and if Aunt Nab- 
by is to love you, you will indeed be happy.” 

Don’t you tell I told you,” whispered 
Agatha cautiously. I wouldn’t hev, only 
I was so glad, I couldn’t help it. Aunt 
Nabby told me in church, an’ maybe she 
didn’t mean I should tell.” 

Mrs. McLeod and Kandy promised utmost 
secresy, and the happy child skipped away 
to join the other children who crowded 
around Sandy to receive the bright little 
bags of sugar plums which he was dis- 
tributing. 

Phoebe and Belinda, Eunice and Arthur 
and Kandy stood watching the children as 
they skipped about, enjoying the sweets 
which their bags contained, or showing their 
gifts to their elders, who shared their de- 
light. 

For weeks the joy of that merry evening 


NABBY WARE’S AWAKENING 197 
served as a theme for conversation in the 
village. It had made much real happiness, 
for coming as it did, just before Christmas, 
not a child in the parish awoke on Christ- 
mas morning without a toy to cheer it. 
Aunt Nabby Ware’s heart had been awak- 
ened in earnest, and her sudden change 
would have been amusing to any one other 
than her little niece. 

When the stern woman saw the joy which 
the simple gifts had given, she immediately 
determined that she would not be outdone. 
She would give something that would be 
well worth receiving. 

Accordingly she visited Barnes’s store, 
and purchased the finest toy tea set which 
he had to offer, and carried it home with an 
odd mixture of elation and triumph in her 
heart. 

Early Christmas morning she awoke the 
little girl and, sitting upon the bed beside 
her she said: 

“ I guess ye may kiss me ef ye want ter, 
fer I’ve got er surprise fer ye.” 


198 RANDrS GOOD TIMES 

Eagerly the little arms clasped about her 
neck. 

Oh, Aunt Nabby,’’ said Agatha. “ It 
wasn^t a dream. Ye do love me, an^ oh, 
whatever ^tis ye’ve got fer me, I’m glad 
’nough ter hev it, but I’m even gladder ter 
know ye wanted to give it ter me.” 

I know it, I knoTV it. Oh, I’m learnin’ 
every day,” said Mrs. Ware, and in some 
way Agatha’s ready affection touched her 
more deeply than the wild joy over the 
pretty gift. 

Like wildfire the news of Mrs. Ware’s 
purchase spread about the^own, and not 
a few wondered if the strange woman could 
be aout of her mind.” 

Mrs. Hodgkins pondered over the change 
in Mrs. Ware, and she trotted all over the 
town, asking every one’s opinion as to Mrs. 
Nabby Ware’s sanity. 

Stands ter reason,” she would say, “ that 
a woman can’t be as mean as they make ’em 
fer years ’n’ years ’n’ then all to onct change 
’raound so, ’thout bein’ some upsot. I de- 
clare, she’s ’most upsot me.” 


CHAPTEE XI 


A WEDDING 

One morning, on her way to the Centre, 
Mrs. Hodgkins met old Mr. Simpkins. 

Wal, Sophrony ! ’’ he exclaimed, “ where 
be ye goin’? Anything on fire that ye race 
so, er have ye beared the great news? ” 

“ There’s no fire I knows of ’cept that in 
my kitchen stove,” she answered tartly, ’n’ 
there’s no great news that I’ve beared of, 
’though I s’pose ye’ve got some ye’re itchin’ 
ter tell.” 

Guess I hev,” said he, “ an’ it’s news as 

is,” 

Wal, why don’t ye tell it? ” asked Mrs. 
Hodgkins impatiently. 

Ye didn’t say ye wanted ter hear it,” 
said Mr. Simpkins exasperatingly, an’ we 
all know ye’ve no ears fer news.” 

“ Hev ye really got any ter tell? ” 

199 


200 RANDTS GOOD TIMES 

Mr. Simpkins slowly took from his pocket 
a letter, and tapping impressively upon it, 
he said : 

There’s a letter from my son Timotheus, 
an’ it’s er great letter, too, I tell ye. He 
used ter be er poet ’fore he went West.” 

Why, that ain’t ” exclaimed Mrs. 

Hodgkins in disgust, ye told me that last 
year.” 

Hey? ” questioned Mr. Simpkins, I 
didn’t quite ketch yer meanin’.” 

Mrs. Hodgkins braced her stout figure for 
a supreme effort, and with her hands upon 
her hips she shrieked, that he might hear: 

I said I beared ye tell that very thing 
last year,” she said. 

Oh,” said Mr. Simpkins mildly, s’pos’n’ 
I did; I hadn’t finished what I had ter tell. 
The fact is, Timotheus is makin’ such an 
everlastin’ pile er money raisin’ steers that 
’cordin’ ter the way he talks, I expect when 
he gits good ’n’ ready to pay us a visit, he’ll 
be able ter buy the hull taown ef he sees 
fit.” 


A Wj^DDIJVG 201 

Wal, all I hope is that he’ll permit er 
few of us ter live ’raound on the edges,” Mrs. 
Hodgkins replied. 

Hedges? What’s that ye say ’baout 
hedges? As I understand him, they don’t 
hev many fences aout W^est, so I guess ef he 
buys prop’ty here he won’t be likely to 
plant hedges.” 

Ef I stand here much longer hollerin’ 
ter him, I won’t hev ’no ugh strength left 
ter git ter Barnes’s store,” Mrs. Hodgkins 
muttered. 

“ Hey? ” Mr. Simpkins placed his hand 
about his ear. 

“ I guess I’ll be goin’ ’long,” she shouted, 
for the newsy woman decided to waive ex- 
planations and waste no more time upon 
unimportant matters, but she had proceeded 
but a short distance when Mr. Simpkins 
called to her: 

Sophrony ! Sophrony ! ” he shouted, ef 
you’re goin’ daown ter Barnes’s, see ’f ye 
kin find aout where Kandy Weston’s gone 
ter. She’s makin’ a visit somewheres, ’n’ 


202 BANDT8 GOOD TIMES 

they say it’s ter Boston ; I’m so deef, mebbe 

I didn’t ketch it straight.” 

Mrs. Hodgkins nodded vigorously. She 
knew that he would not hear if she an- 
swered, so as he seemed satisfied with her 
assuring nod^ she turned and hurried down 
the road. 

Why didn’t he tell me that in the fust 
place ’nstead er runnin’ on ’baout Timo- 
theus?” she grumbled. The idee that 
Squire Weston’s Randy has gone away 
somewheres ’n’ I not knowin’ where ! ” 

Then for a time she trudged on in silence 
when again her exasperation forced her to 
think audibly. 

That’s just where ye miss it. Ye keep 
er close watch on one end er the taown, an’ 
whilst ye’re doin’ it ye lose track er the 
other end. Keepin’ my eyes on Josiah Boy- 
den ’n’ old Nate Burnham ’n’ Jemima Bab- 
son that’s actin’ so strange, has kept me 
so busy that I ain’t been nigh the Westons 
fer three er four weeks, I do’no but longer, 
’n’ here’s Randy gone off ter Boston, er 


A WEDDING 


20H 


goodness knows where, ’n^ I don’t know any- 
thing ’baout it, I guess it’s the fust time 
anything as important as that happened, ’n’ 
’thout my knowin’ of it.” 

In truth the good woman felt a bit injured 
that none had thought it necessary to in- 
form her that Randy was about to make a 
visit, and thus give her an opportunity to 
ask why she was going, when she was going, 
how long she was to stay, and any other lit- 
tle questions which she happened to think of. 

At Barnes’s store she obtained but little 
information, for the usual number of loiter- 
ers were absent. Silas Barnes had gone to 
the city to buy goods, Joel Simpkins was 
sorting the mail, and a small boy, who for 
the moment took Joel’s place behind, the 
counter, was not sufficiently important to 
be prodded with questions. 

I want er half er quarter of er paound. 
er tea, er pair er shoelacin’s and er half er 
paound er bakin’ sody, sonny. Think ye 
kin put ’em up fer me? ” she asked, as if the 
articles were numerous. 


204 


RANDTS GOOD TIMES 


Huh ! that^s easy/’ said the small boy, 
and he bustled about with a great show of 
celerity, hoping to impress his customer 
with his importance as a salesman, but she 
paid little heed to his maneuvers, and when 
he placed her little parcels upon the counter, 
she hastily snatched them and left the store. 

She considered it a bit of ill-fortune to 
have visited Barnes’s and have met no one 
who could give her a morsel of news. She 
did not walk as rapidly as when she had 
started out, and she seemed lost in thought 
when brisk footsteps coming tow^ard her 
caused her to look up. A smile illumined 
her face. Luck had turned in her favor! 
The approaching woman was Aunt Pru- 
dence Weston. 

Wal, there, I’m glad ter meet ye,” said 
Mrs. Hodgkins, fer I beared that Kandy 
was away on er visit, ’n’ bein’s I hadn’t 
beared she was goin’, I couldn’t noways 
believe she’d went.” 

Aunt Prudence peered over her glasses 
at Mrs. Hodgkins, her eyes twinkling, and 


A WEDDING 205 

her mouth betraying an almost irresistible 
desire to laugh ; then she said : 

Wal, yes, Randy ^s off fer a little visit 
ter Boston. We was all willin’ ter hev her 
hev the trip ; so as fur as I know, she didn’t 
ask nobody else’s permission. Most likely 
she didn’t think the taown needed notify- 
ing.” 

Wal, I do’no ’s I need be sot daown on 
fer feelin’ er friendly int’rest ; least- 
ways, I’m goin’ ter ask what started her 
off?” 

The railroad,” said Aunt Prudence, with 
a droll air of great frankness; then, seeing 
that her joke was not appreciated, she 
added : 

Since ye’re int’rested I may as well tell 
ye that Randy received an invitation from 
her friend. Miss Helen Dayton, who is to 
be married to Professor Marden, that fine 
young man what was er tutor for Jotham 
Potts ’fore he went ter college. Ye remem- 
ber him, I guess.” 

^^Why, yes, I seen him ter church of er 


206 EANDY^S GOOD TIMES 
Sunday, an’ I’ll say naow, that I do’no what 
they mean by callin’ him that ’ere name. 
Fer massy sakes, tell me, what on airth 
Jotham needed of er musician ter git him in 
ter college.” 

Professor Marden ain’t no musician,” 
said Aunt Prudence in surprise. 

Don’t tooter mean er musician, I’d like 
ter know? An’ what does he toot on, an- 
swer me that? ” and Mrs. Hodgkins con- 
sidered that she had made a telling argu- 
ment. Lifting her chin triumphantly, she 
waited for an answer. 

Aunt Prudence laughed heartily; how 
could she help it? Then seeing wrath kind- 
ling in Mrs. Hodgkins’ eyes she said : 

Wal, he’s a young man I admire, an’ 
there’s one thing he don’t do. He don’t 
ever toot his own horn, an’ he reeley has 
some reason ter, for he’s been awful smart, 
they say, ’n’ naow he’s proved it by winnin’ 
er prize fer his wife, ’n’ as Randy’s ter be 
er bridesmaid at the weddin’ we feel ^ome 
int’rested/’ said Aunt Prudence, 


A WEDDING 


^07 

A bridesmaid ! ’’ exclaimed Mrs. Hodg- 
kins, her surprise rendering another word 
impossible. 

Yes, er bridesmaid,’’ repeated Aunt 
Prudence with pride ; Miss Dayton’s most 
int’mate friend is ter be the maid of honor, 
an’ aour Randy and Nina Erwin will be the 
two bridesmaids, an’ it’s ter be at her Aunt 
Marcia’s haouse, ’n^ er big reception after 
it. Ye must remember Nina Erwin, don’t 
ye? That pretty girl that was at the pri- 
vate school with Randy ’n’ visited her last 
summer, ’n^ went about with Randy ’n’ 
Jotham? ” 

Mrs. Hodgkins’ mind could hold but one 
idea at a time, and the question passed un- 
noticed. That Randy had been greatly 
honored was uppermost in her thoughts, 
and when she left Aunt Prudence and 
turned toward home, her feet kept step to 
the words which turned over and over in 
her mind: 

Gone ter Boston ter ’tend er weddin’,” 
and as she entered the kitchen she gave 


‘208 RANDY’S GOOD TIMES 

vent to her surprise and excitement in one 

exclamation : 

Ef that ain’t the hesiter-ree! ” 

In the rose chamber in Helen Dayton’s 
home stood two charming girls arrayed as 
bridesmaids waiting for the summons to 
join the wedding party — Randy Weston 
and Nina Erwin. 

Their frocks were of white chiffon, and 
their large picture hats with nodding 
plumes were most becoming. Randy had 
never looked more lovely, her gray eyes and 
light brown hair making a fine contrast for 
Nina’s brilliant dark eyes and darker hair. 

Oh, Randy,” Nina was saying, as with 
her hands upon her friend’s shoulder she 
surveyed her, “you are surely the same 
Randy, yet in some way you are fairer than 
when we were last together.” 

“ Let me return the compliment, Nina, 
dear,” Randy replied, making a graceful 
little courtesy, “ but let me remind you that 
when we last met, you were my guest and I 


A WEDDING 


209 

was wearing— gingham. You know the old 
saying, Nina: 'Fine feathers,'— need I 
quote it? " 

" Nonsense, Randy," Nina replied, while 
both laughed merrily. " Whether your garb 
be gingham or chiffon, cotton or satin, you 
are the same dear girl, the one whom I 
most truly cared for when we were at school 
together — the one whose friendship I now 
most deeply prize. We must always be 
true friends, Randy." 

Randy laid her arm lovingly about Nina 
as she answered firmly : 

“We will indeed." A moment later Nina 
asked : 

“Were you surprised when you learned 
that Professor Harden had won Helen Day- 
ton? " 

“ I knew how deeply he cared for her, I 
could not help seeing it during my long 
visit at her home, but she was always so 
kind, so courteous and so genial with each 
friend who came to see her that I could not 
tell if either were preferred," said Randy, 


210 RANDY^S GOOD TIMES 

and at that moment a servant entered and 

bade them join Miss Helen and her maid of 

honor. 

Helen Dayton looked like a young queen 
in her gown of heavy cream- white satin, 
shimmering beneath her veil of priceless 
lace. A coronet of orange blossoms 
crowned her dark-brown hair, and her bril- 
liant coloring seemed enhanced by the daz- 
zling white costume. 

Randy wondered if ever before there had 
been a girl so rarely beautiful. Doris 
Glenmore, standing beside her, formed a 
fine contrast, with her regular features and 
brilliant golden hair. She was not beauti- 
ful, but hers were pleasant eyes, and she 
had the manner of one gently bred, and as 
Helen’s most intimate friend seemed the 
one of all others to be chosen as maid of 
honor. 

As children they had been playmates, 
then classmates, and since schooldays in- 
separable friends. 

Next to Doris, Helen loved Randy and 


A WEDDING 


211 


Nina, and thus on her wedding day those 
whom she held dearest and whose friend- 
ship she knew to be sincere, were chosen for 
her escort. 

Softly the music of the orchestra from its 
hiding place behind a screen of palms came 
up the grand stairway, floating as if the 
melody had wings, and now its strains had 
melted into the triumphant Wedding March 
of Mendelssohn, and the little party made 
its way down through a forest of foliage and 
flowers to the drawing room. 

A faint murmur of admiration came like 
a happy whisper from many of those who 
gazed upon the lovely bride and her attend- 
ants. 

At the improvised altar she was met by 
Professor Marden. Aunt Marcia in silver 
brocade and diamonds looked like an old 
countess as she gave her dearly loved niece 
into his keeping. 

The wedding in the little country town 
of Joel Simpkins and Janie Clifton, with 
its amusing blunders and the varied char- 


212 BANDY’S GOOD TIMES 
acter of its assembled guests had seemed to 
Randy almost like a huge village joke. 
There was an absolute lack of dignity on 
that occasion, and indeed every one present 
appeared as if enjoying a variety entertain- 
ment. 

How different was this wedding! Not 
only were its surroundings all that wealth 
and taste could purchase, but the dignity 
of all concerned, the solemnity of the ser- 
vice impressed Randy deeply, and when she 
heard the voices of these two who hence- 
forward were to pass through life together 
firmly pledging their vows of eternal 
fidelity, it seemed to her that never before 
had she realized quite what it meant. Un- 
consciously her fingers tightened upon her 
rose bouquet, and puzzling questions fiitted 
through her mind. It was, then, a solemn 
thing to give one’s life into another’s keep- 
ing? How very sure one must be, that the 
one chosen were the one, of all others, with 
whom one could be happy. Would Helen 
remember to love her, just Randy Weston, 


A WIJDDING 213 

as truly as she had done, now that she was 
promising all her love to another? 

A bright tear glistened upon her lashes, 
then plashed upon the pink roses in her 
hand. Only one of all that brilliant com- 
pany saw it, and that was Jotham Potts. 
Professor Marden had chosen his favorite 
pupil for one of the ushers and as Jotham, 
as usual, was watching Randy closely, the 
bright tear could not fall unobserved. He 
wondered why she was so deeply moved. 
He knew how firm was the bond of friend- 
ship between Helen and Randy, he knew 
that Randy admired Professor Marden. 
Then why did this union cause a tear? He 
wished that he might ask her. His 
thoughts went back to the days when, as 
little playmates, it had ever been his desire 
to give her pleasure and to shield her from 
any of those little trials which caused child- 
ish grief. 

It was with the same old longing to com- 
fort her that Jotham determined at the earli- 
est possible moment to ask Randy what had 


214 


RANDY^S GOOD TIMES 


troubled her, but the pretty bridesmaids 
formed a part of the receiving party, and 
Randy^s face wore its usual sunny smile ; so 
as he could find no opportunity to question 
her, he was obliged to be content with puz- 
zling over the rapid change of expression. 
How bright and fair she was ! “ It must 

have been but a momentary grief which had 
caused the tear,’’ he argued, since the 
evening’s gayety could so effectually dis- 
pel it.” 

With rare delight, Randy watched the 
host of friends that offered congratulations 
to the happy couple, and she felt that their 
words were sincere and heartfelt. 

Aunt Marcia Dayton, with Professor 
Harden, Senior, father of the groom, were 
of the receiving party, and very fine and 
dignified were they as they greeted the 
friends both young and old, seeming not at 
all weary, although the reception held until 
a late hour. 

When the carriage had rolled away 
amidst a shower of rice, and the greater 


A WEDDING 


215 


number of guests had departed, Randy 
turned from the great hall, whence she had 
lovingly bade Helen good-bye, and missing 
Nina, entered the drawing room where a 
few yet lingered. Not seeing her and hear- 
ing voices in the conservatory she entered 
and paused to learn if it were Nina speak- 
ing. 

We made a great mistake, Marcia, a 
great mistake, we both realize it now.” It 
was old Professor Harden who had spoken, 
and Randy felt like an eavesdropper, yet she 
could not take another step upon the mar- 
ble floor without being heard. What 
should she do? If she remained she would 
be a most unwilling listener; if she re- 
treated, the sound of her footsteps would 
tell the two old friends that their conver- 
sation had been overheard, and thus cause 
them embarrassment. 

Yes, David, yes,” Aunt Marcia was now 
speaking, and I cannot tell you how earn- 
estly I repent my hasty judgment. I was 
only a girl, then, and they told me it was 


216 


RANDY^S GOOD TIMES 


only my wealth which attracted. Oh, 
David, how could I, even for a moment, be- 
lieve it of you? My injured pride forced 
me to be silent, and the same pride has 
helped me ever since to hide that I have suf- 
fered. Helen does not know that to-night 
she has married the son of the man to whom 
her Aunt Marcia was once betrothed.^^ 

With parted lips and tear-dimmed eyes 
Randy stood as if transfixed. Her hands 
were clasped impulsively upon her breast. 
She could hear their voices in earnest con- 
versation as they left the conservatory by 
another door, but their words were inaudi- 
ble, and she breathed easier, for now she 
could return to the drawing room where, 
doubtless, she would find Nina. 

Oh, why did I have to hear their 
story? ’’ thought Randy. They did not 
wish it known ; not even Helen knew it, and 
now without their knowledge I know it, and 
must keep it sacredly.” 

A turn in the hall brought her face to 
face with Nina, who exclaimed : 



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A WEDDING 


217 


Why, here you are, Randy. Vyq been 
looking everywhere for you. Where were 
you that I could not find you?” 

Searching for you, Nina,” Randy re- 
plied, while she struggled to keep her voice 
steady, and as she saw Aunt Marcia at the 
end of the drawing room, cheerily chatting 
with friends who were about to depart, she 
marveled at her self-possession, for the 
stately dame was apparently as composed 
and at ease as if nothing had occurred to 
ruffle her serenity; yet not more than ten 
minutes had elapsed since the pathetic little 
conversation in the conservatory. 

At Aunt Marcia Dayton^s earnest request 
Randy remained with her for a few days 
after the wedding. 

I shall be lonely,” she had said, “ very 
lonely, waiting for my children to return, 
for I feel as if they were my son and daugh- 
ter, Randy. Does that puzzle you, dear?” 

The color rushed to Randy^s cheeks. She 
knew how dearly Aunt Marcia loved Helen, 
and she knew of the tender bond which 


218 


RANDT8 GOOD TIMES 


made young Professor Harden more to the 
lonely woman than merely Helen’s hus- 
band; therefore Randy answered gently: 

No, I am not puzzled; I think it very 
sweet that they both may enjoy your love.’’ 

They will make this their home ; you 
see I could not spare them,” said Aunt 
Marcia, and Randy, knowing that the old 
professor would often visit his only son, 
wondered if bis presence would cause Aunt 
Marcia pleasure or pain. 


CHAPTER XII 


’mongst iris blooms 

Spring had come, and never had the little 
town appeared more lovely. 

The foliage was unusually heavy, so that 
the trees cast long shadows across the sunny 
roads. By the wayside the tiny wild flow- 
ers blossomed, the river wound its shining 
way through the valley, and the meadows 
were sweet with the scent of blossoms. 

The fresh green of the wild woodbine 
shone out clearly against its background of 
gray stone wall, and here and there a tiny 
chipmunk skipped along from stone to 
stone, happy in the warm sunlight; glad 
that the winter was over. As if to make 
the picture complete, two figures came 
around the bend in the road, and the little 
chipmunk sat upon his haunches as if won- 
dering if friend or foe approached. Appar- 
219 


220 


EANDrS GOOD TIMES 


ently he felt re-assured, for instead of 
scampering away, he turned and watched 
them as they passed. 

I should like to have seen you in your 
bridesmaid^s gown, Randy, although as you 
well know, I like you in whatever you 
choose to wear.” Arthur Earnshaw looked 
eagerly at his companion to see if his words 
had pleased her. 

Randy had heard, but her answer gave 
but little satisfaction. 

“ It was a charming wedding,” she said, 
“ and Miss Dayton was a beautiful bride.” 

And how about the bridesmaids? ” said 
Arthur. 

Oh, they were of but secondary im- 
portance, the interest centered upon the 
bride.” 

“ And Jotham was one of the ushers I am 
told,” said Arthur, looking closely to learn 
if his statement interested his companion. 

Randy looked across the sunny meadows, 
toward the distant hills as she said; 


^ MON GST IRIS BLOOMS 


221 


Yes, Jotham was an usher; he is a great 
favorite among the students and with Pro- 
fessor Harden.” 

Arthur Earnshaw wished that he dared 
to ask if the fortunate youth were also a 
favorite with Kandy Weston, but his cour- 
age was not sufficient. So self-composed, 
so unruffled by his questions was Randy 
that he dared not persist. He watched her 
as she walked beside him, touching the low- 
growing weeds with a long stem of timothy 
grass which she held in her hand, and at 
times looking off at the river as it sped 
through the valley. He knew that so per- 
sonal a question as that which he wished to 
ask would cause her to turn toward him, 
and her clear gray eyes would look so ques- 
tioningly at him that he would feel that he 
had been impertinent, and know that she 
thought so, too. 

So the question remained unasked, and 
Randy did not dream what was passing in 
his mind, for he turned the conversation 
toward another subject, and soon they were 


222 BANDT8 GOOD TIMES 
laughing merrily over a story which Arthur 
related. 

A little farther on their paths lay in dif- 
ferent directions. Arthur was obliged to 
go across the fields, thus as quickly as pos- 
sible to reach the little bridge which 
spanned the river, and thence to the next 
town, where he had an important errand for 
his father. 

Randy intended to call at the post office 
for the mail. At the bars they paused, Ar- 
thur leaning upon them for a moment be- 
fore turning to cross the fields. It always 
gave him pleasure to watch Randy. She 
‘was fair to look upon ; but she held a greater 
charm than mere beauty of feature and 
coloring which were indeed hers. She was 
so frank and sincere, so unabashed by 
scrutiny, apparently so little moved by ad- 
miration, that one never feared causing her 
embarrassment. And when she had bade 
him a cheery good-morning ’’ and turning, 
tripped away down the road, Arthur stood 
for a moment at the bars looking after her. 


*MONGST IRIS BLOOMS 


223 


Then, softly whistling a gentle little Ger- 
man air, he turned and walked away toward 
the bridge. 

She is always pleasant, always kind,^^ 
he thought, “ but whether she is charmed 
with my society, or could get on very 
comfortably without it, I am unable to 
guess.’’ 

He quickened his pace, for he remembered 
that his father had wished the errand to be 
quickly done, and it was Arthur Earnshaw’s 
way to promptly execute whatever business 
was intrusted to his care. He wondered as 
he hurried on if he were out of Randy’s 
mind as soon as he was out of sight. 

Now, Randy had enjoyed his company 
during the first part of the walk, but as soon 
as he had left her, her attention was claimed 
by two butterflies which chased each other 
over the wall and across the fields; by the 
beauty of the sunlight and shadow in 
the valley below; by the bird-songs in the 
branches overhead, and as she hummed a 
little tune her mind was filled with the 


224 


RANDT8 GOOD TIMES 


thought that Helen Dayton, now Helen 
Harden, was far away, and she was glad 
that the tour was commenced in sunny 
weather. Truly Arthur Earnshaw was far- 
thest from her mind. 

Between the millpond and the road stood 
a tiny grove, and as Randy passed it she 
could see, between the trees, touches of blue 
growing in or near the water. 

Wild iris! ” she exclaimed. I did not 
dream that they had blossomed yet.” She 
knew that her mother was especially fond 
of the lovely blue flowers, and she deter- 
mined to gather some on her return from 
the Centre. 

I’d like to get them now,” she thought, 
but if I am delayed at the store they may 
be wilted when I reach home.” 

She left the road, climbed over the low 
wall and was soon in the little grove, intend- 
ing only to learn if there were enough iris 
blooms open to pay for stopping to gather 
them on her return. Before she reached 
the grove she could plainly see that the iris 


'M0NG8T IRIS BLOOMS 225 
whicll bordered the millpond was in full 
bloom, and that the blossoms were un- 
usually fine. 

1^11 gather a large cluster of them when 
I return,” she thought, and turned to re- 
trace her steps, when the sound of a sweet 
voice singing caused her to pause in won- 
der, for seeing no one Randy had believed 
herself to be alone in the grove. 

The melody ceased, and a tiny song-spar- 
row essayed a little solo, only to be echoed 
by an exact copy of his song. Surprised, he 
tipped his tiny head aslant, as if wonder- 
ing who had the audacity to mimic 
him. 

Again he sang. Again he heard the lilt- 
ing notes of his joyous carol perfectly 
copied; then a merry, childish laugh broke 
the stillness, followed almost immediately 
by another song which was even gayer than 
the first. 

‘ ' In greenwoods where soft breezes spring, 

Are happy birds that sweetly sing, 

They fly away on pinions bright. 

Their love tales warbling in their flight.” 


226 


RANDT8 GOOD TIMES 


It was Janie, and, oh, the liquid melody 
of her voice! Randy listened enraptured. 
She could see the little singer plainly now, 
as she stood gathering the blue iris, the sun- 
light making her fair hair glisten, her blue 
eyes rivaling the blossoms in her hand. 
Again the sparrow, as if competing with 
Janie, sang his merry tune. 

The little lass laughed gleefully. Shak- 
ing a long-stemmed iris blossom at him, and 
nodding as she spoke, she said : 

Ah, my bonny, ye sing weel and ne’er a 
music maester taught ye,” then thought- 
fully she added: 

Aye, birdie, wha’ am I sayin’ ? Dinna 
Ane greater than a music maester make ye 
sing? Do ye sing again, an’ we’ll hae a 
duet.” 

As if complying with the invitation so 
cunningly given, he shrilly piped his wee 
treble, yjing with Janie as she sang a sec- 
ond verse of the song : 

In happy vales where roses fair 
With perfume scent the balmy air, 


^ MON GST IRIS BLOOMS 


227 


There wad I fly to love’s sweet bowers, 

A garden sweet of blooming flowers. 

There like a dreamland fair and bright, 

Each rising view adds new delight.” 

Between the lines Janie interspersed the 
sweetest bird calls, the sparrow as if deter- 
mined to accompany her, executing over and 
over again his shrill little solo. 

Oh, if her music teacher could but hear 
her now ! thought Randy. “ If only every 
one who knows her could see and hear her 
now ! ” 

“Ye pretty birdlings light and free, 

Ye pretty birdlings light and free. 

Will one of you, will one of you, 

A message bear for me ? ” 

Again she made the liquid bird notes; 
again the sparrow responded, Janie leaned 
forward toward the low branch upon which 
the bird perched, and she held her cluster of 
blossoms toward him as she said : 

Ye sang sweetly, ye merry thing, an’ I 
hae naething to gie ye but these rare blooms, 
an’ ye’ll nae care for them. Will ye sing it 
again wi’ nae better reward than my 


228 RANDY’ 8 GOOD TIMES 

thanks? Sing! an’ I’ll promise tae love ye 
wi’ ” 

A wild cry, a convulsive movement of her 
arms, a second cry, and Janie slipped from 
sight among the rushes near the bank. 

Randy sprang forward with a cry of 
horror. The color left her face, then rushed 
back as it flashed through her mind that 
Janie had but lost her footing near the 
shore and thus could easily be reached. 

Janie, Janie, I’m coming ! ” she cried, 
to reassure the child until she could reach 
her. She ran, as she had never run before, 
fear giving wings to her feet, and when she 
reached the place where Janie had been 
standing, the little white face appeared 
above the water, but farther from the shore 
than Randy had dreamed. 

The pond, shallow at the edge, became 
suddenly deeper, and Janie was in a peril- 
ous position. Near at hand lay a long 
branch which some strong wind had broken 
from a tree, and Randy, grasping it firmly, 
stretched it toward the frightened child. 


^MONGST IRIS BLOOMS 229 

Quick, Janie, quick ! Catch hold of the 
branch! Janie! Oh, don^t you hear me? 
See ! I am holding this branch out for you 
to cling to, Janie! ” 

Randy saw that the water was shallow, 
and that the little girl, with her assistance, 
could easily walk ashore, but she was so ter- 
rified that she was utterly helpless. 

Janie! ” cried Randy, but she saw that 
her help was unavailing ; for, as she looked, 
the little face became whiter, and the fright- 
ened eyes closed, while the hands grasped, 
not the branch, but the frail, green rushes. 

Randy dropped the branch, and without 
an instant’s hesitation, rushed into the 
water to save the little girl. 

“I’m coming, Janie, I’m coming!” she 
cried. “ Open your eyes, Janie, and give 
me your hand I ” 

But the child seemed stupefied with 
terror, and although she looked at Randy, 
she seemed not to see her. The water was 
shallow, but the muddy bottom was treach- 
erous, and Randy, as she walked out into 


230 


BANDY’S GOOD TIMES 


deeper water, realized that she must have a 
care, lest she slip. Quickly placing her arm 
about Janie, she lifted the slender form, 
made heavy by its dripping garments, and 
was about to retrace her steps when sud- 
denly, as if awaking, Janie turned and 
wound her arms tightly about Kandy. 

Oh, Janie,’^ Randy cried, in alarm, 
‘^you mustn’t hold me so tightly, I can’t 
move, and I want to get you to the shore. 
Janie, listen! Loose your hold, or I can- 
not save you ! ” 

Janie seemed not to hear, or to realize 
what she was doing; for, with a faint cry, 
she wound her arms tighter about Randy, 
and a spasmodic movement of her body 
caused the two to sway, and, in an instant, 
both were struggling beneath the water. 

Randy was strong and lithe, and in a mo- 
ment appeared above the surface, dragging 
the now helpless little lass, and making a 
heroic effort to reach the shore. Janie 
made no resistance now, but lay a limp, 
helpless figure in Randy’s arms. Half way 


^M0N08T IRIS BLOOMS 


231 


to the shore she paused, and despairingly 
looked about her ; then her lips set 
with determination. Half dragging, half 
carrying Janie, she made her way to the 
land, and with a wild cry of exultation, 
sank upon the grass, realizing two facts 
with startling distinctness; that Janie 
needed immediate care, and that it was im- 
possible to carry her one step farther. 

Not a thought for her own plight entered 
her mind, and then, as if a cloud passed 
over her, she lay back upon the grass, her 
eyes closed, the color left her lips; for the 
first time in her strong, young life Randy 
had fainted! 

While with a last effort, Randy was 
endeavoring to reach the shore, Sandy Mc- 
Leod jogged along the road behind the mare, 
Heather, and just as he reached the grove, 
a parcel which lay in the back of the wagon 
rolled out upon the ground, and he was 
obliged to alight to recover it. 

u Wi^ ye stay where ye belang, noo? ” he 
asked, as he thrust the bundle beneath the 


232 RANDT8 GOOD TIMES 
seat. As he turned to clamber into the 
wagon he caught a glimpse of the blue iris 
blooms beyond the clump of trees, and 
paused to gaze at the lovely scene. 

Weel, weel, the beauty o’ it ! ” he ex- 
claimed ; it’s a fine picture wi’ the blue 
sky above, an’ the blue blossoms below. 
Nae wonder it hae charms; it was painted 
by the Ane wha’ painted earth and sky.” 

As he stood lost in admiration, a sharp 
cry rent the air, and the smile left his face 
as he started forward toward the grove. 
The collie, who had been dozing in the bot- 
tom of the wagon, pricked up his ears and 
whimpered as he sprang to the ground, and 
looked up into his master’s face. 

Aye, it was an eerie cry,” as if in answer 
to the dog’s mute appeal. An I dinna ken 
if it wad be a sprite or a human wha made 
it. Keep ye’re een open, an’ between we 
twa, ’twill nae be lang before we’ll ken if 
aught hae befallen some lad. He might e’en 
be in the pool below, an’ wi’ ye’re help 

He had reached the grove, and, seeing 


'MONGST IRIS BLOOMS 


233 


nothing there, turned to go back to the road, 
when suddenly the dog, uttering a low 
whine, looked up at his master, then 
bounded away to where the two motionless 
figures lay. 

“Are ye daft?” cried Sandy, then as he 
saw what the dog had found, the color left 
his cheek. 

“ Gracious Lord of a’ ! ” he reverently 
cried, even in his terror remembering 
whence help must come. “Aid me tae 
make haste, for my feet wad fain let me 
fa\” 

The dog stood between the two figures, 
crying piteously, and not until Sandy had 
nearly reached them did he realize who they 
were. He would have hastened to aid them, 
whoever they might have been, but when he 
saw Janie and Kandy, white- faced and 
motionless, his grief was pitiful, for he be- 
lieved them to be dead. 

“ Ah, the wretchedness and misery of it 
a^ Ah, Randy, how did this befa’? Janie, 
lass, open yer een? Wha^ shall I do?” 


234 


BANDTS GOOD TIMES 


As if in answer to his pleading her white 
lids quivered, then opened, and a deep sigh 
escaped her lips. 

Janie ! With a glad cry he sprang 
forward. 

I thought ye were deed, dearie,” he 
cried. Her lips moved, and Sandy bent to 
catch tlie words. 

Eandy saved me,” she whispered ; then 
her eyes closed and she again lapsed into 
unconsciousness. 

I must hae help,” he said to the dog. 

Noo, gang hame; find Donald! Quick, 
noo, bring Donald ! ” 

Like a flash the intelligent dog was off, 
bounding through the grove, clearing the 
wall at a leap, and down the road. In at 
the gate he rushed, nearly tripping Donald, 
whom he met in the dooryard. 

Wha’s the matter wi^ ye? ” angrily ex- 
claimed the young Scotchman, but the dog 
cared not in the least for the man^s dis- 
pleasure. 

Barking and whining, he pulled at his 


^ MON GST IRIS BLOOMS 235 
coat until the fellow could not but realize 
that something was wrong. 

Shall I gang wi^ ye? Is that wha^ ye 
want? he asked, and the dog with one loud 
bark sprang out into the road, and then 
turned to see if Donald intended to follow. 

Sure it must be summat wrang,” mut- 
tered the man; and he hastened down the 
road, the dog turning often to see if Donald 
were still following. 

And while he waited for help to arrive, 
Sandy bathed their faces and tried in every 
way to restore consciousness, and just as 
Donald appeared, Janie again opened her 
eyes, and, with Sandy^s aid, was able to sit 
up; but with Randy his efforts seemed un- 
availing, and he feared that she had given 
her life for Janie’s. 

“ Dinna ye stand an’ stare,” said Sandy, 
as Donald stood, white-faced and appar- 
ently helpless. Dinna ye stand there like 
a mon daft, but do ye help me get these 
lassies tae the road. Our coats we’ll lay 
in the wagon, an’ they atop o’ them, an’ 


236 RANDT8 GOOD TIMES 
while I take them hame for Margaret tae 
care fer, do ye be makin^ speed tae the 
doctor^s. Tell him they^re in need 0 ^ him. 
Do you run, mon, run! Donald, hae ye 
gang daft? Run, I tell ye, run!” 

As if suddenly awaking, Donald turned, 
and taking Sandy’s proffered coat, he hast- 
ened through the grove to the road where 
the mare was patiently standing. Draw- 
ing off his own coat, Donald laid the two in 
the bottom of the wagon, and then returned 
to aid Sandy. 

Janie, although a bit faint, was able with 
Donald’s arm about her to walk to the road, 
but Randy still remained motionless, and 
the two anxious men carried her to the 
wagon, and tenderly laid her upon the coats. 
Without a word, frightened little Janie 
crouched beside her in the wagon, where 
wide-eyed and speechless she remained until 
they reached Sandy’s door. 

Margaret had seen them coming and with 
blanched cheeks ran out to meet them, 
reaching the wagon just as old Dr. Bush- 


^MONQST IRIS BLOOMS 237 

nell, whom Donald had summoned, drove 
in at the gateway. 

Before permitting them to move her, he 
clambered into the wagon, where he bent 
over Randy, listening intently, at the same 
time lifting his hand, thus mutely asking 
all to be silent. 

Sandy stood with his tarn in his hand and 
his head bent, and Margaret^s lips moved 
in silent prayer, while the collie sat with 
ears erect, and mouth open, closely watch- 
ing the old doctor. 

The dog well knew that something was 
wrong with the girl who always had a merry 
word or caress for him, and he evidently 
was not quite sure whether the man stand- 
ing over her meant to help or harm her. If 
he intended to aid her, he approved, if he 
meant to harm her — well, he could show 
what a valiant dog he was. 

Dr. Bushnell laid his firm hand upon 
Randy'S heart. The collie, leaning for- 
ward, uttered a low whine. 

It’s all right, old fellow,” said the doc- 


238 RANDT8 GOOD TIMES 
tor, and a sigh of relief came from the wait- 
ing friends. 

Will she get well?’’ questioned Janie, 
her trembling voice betraying her own weak- 
ness. 

“ Yes, yes, child. ’Tis nothing but a 
deep swoon; now help me, Donald, ter git 
her into the house. I dare to move her now, 
and with yer help, Mrs. McLeod, we’ll soon 
bring her ’round.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


A CONFESSION 

Old Dr. Bushnell, assisted by Mrs. Mc- 
Leod, worked faithfully to arouse Randy, 
and just as they were wondering what re- 
storative, other than those already used, 
might aid them, she sighed deeply, and they 
saw her eyelids quiver, and her lips move. 
Eagerly Sandy bent his head to listen. 

I shall save you, Janie,’’ she mur- 
mured. 

Tears ran down the old Scotchman’s 
cheek, The blessed lass,” he said, she 
has saved our Janie, an’ noo she’s livin’ it 
o’er again. I wad she’d soon wake an’ see 
hersel’ an’ Janie safe on land.” 

Again her eyelids quivered, she moved her 
head upon the pillow, opened her eyes, and 
with a little cry, sat up and looked wildly 
about. 


239 


240 RANDY'8 GOOD TIME8 

Where is Janie?” she cried, “we must 
not wait here.” 

Janie ran eagerly forward. 

“Oh, Kandy, Randy darling, I^m here,” 
she said ; “ but I^d na be here but for your 
dear seF.” 

“ I’m so glad,” Randy murmured, lying 
back with a happy smile. 

“ She’ll soon be all right now,” said the 
doctor, “ so we’ll not send for her ma and 
the Squire, fer ’twould scare ’em ’most inter 
fits ter see their Randy lookin’ so pale. 
She’s been overtaxed, that’s all, an’ the 
fear that her strength wouldn’t hold aout 
ter save «Tanie, so weakened her, that when 
she reached the shore with the little lass in 
her arms, she just fainted. Ah, the color’s 
er cornin’ back ter her cheeks, an’ she looks 
more like herself.” 

Then turning to Sandy he said : “ I’ll take 
our brave lass home in my shay, lookin’ 
’baout as fresh as ever, an’ with her safe an’ 
saound ter home, I kin tell of her bravery 
’fore they hev time ter git scaret.” 


A CONFESSION 241 

And so it happened that when the old 
doctor drove up to the door with Randy be- 
side him in the chaise, the family had not 
had time to become alarmed, because, often 
on her way home from the Centre, Randy 
stopped at the Earnshaws’, and Eunice 
always detained her as long as pos- 
sible. 

Aunt Prudence was at the window when 
they arrived, and hastened to the door, sup- 
posing that Dr. Bushnell had overtaken 
Randy and gave himself the pleasure of 
driving her home. 

Fine day, doctor,” said Aunt Prudence, 
as she smoothed the folds of her fresh apron. 
“ Fine day fer drivin. Lor^ me, but ye 
needn^t get aout fust ter help Randy; she^s 
as spry as er cat — why, child, what ails ye? 
Oh, it can’t be ye’re ill ! ” 

Naow, Miss Prudence, don’t ye git flur- 
ried. Randy’s all right; but er spell back, 
she made herself a herry-wine by savin’ 
Janie McLeod from bein’ drownded. Don’t 
ye be scaret naow; the time’s gone by fer 


242 BANDrS GOOD TIMES 
that, ^cause she’s all right naow, ’n’ I guess 
most folks ’ll agree she’s the bravest girl in 
the village. Not many of ’em would take 
the resk she took, er hev the nerve ter kerry 
it through. I ain’t fergot the time she ran 
daown ter my house after dark ter git me ter 
come when little Prue was sick. 

Kandy’s true. Tut, tut, Randy, Ye 
needn’t try ter speak, I will hev my say. Ye 
can’t prevent it. She’s done er deed ter-day 
that makes me proud ter call myself her 
friend.” 

Together they helped Randy into the 
house, and seated her by the open window 
in a large, cushioned chair. Then to the 
girl’s confused mind, it seemed as if the 
room suddenly filled with dear, eager faces 
which crowded about her. 

The Squire had just come up from the 
meadow, Mrs. Weston, seeing the chaise 
from the kitchen window, had hurried in, 
Prue close beside her w^as asking how it 
happened that her Randy was wearing a 
dress which she knew belonged to Mrs. Me- 


A CONFESSION 


243 


Leod^s serving maid; Aunt Prudence, and 
close beside her Mrs. Jenks, who had been 
making a forenoon call, and in the doorway 
Philury appeared, wide-eyed and wonder- 
ing. 

Naow, ye mustn’t craowd raound her, 
’n’ keep off the air. Randy’s all right. Mis’ 
Weston, ’n’ you ’n’ the Squire kin be as 
puffed up with pride as ye’ve er right ter be 
with such a darter’s Randy, but ye’ve no 
cause ter be worried, fer all she needs is 
rest.” 

Then as quickly as possible he told them 
of Janie’s plight and Randy’s courage, of 
the danger she had incurred because of the 
rapid deepening of the bed of the pond, and 
once more assured them that she was only 
in need of rest; that in a day or two she 
would be quite herself. 

Mrs. Weston’s cheek paled when she real- 
ized how great had been the danger, and her 
eyes were wet as she knelt beside Randy 
and drew the dear head upon her shoulder. 
The mother’s lips moved; and for the mQ- 


244 RANDY^8 GOOD TIMES 
ment she could not speak, but Kandy under- 
stood. 

I^m proud er ye, Randy, prouder’n I can 
tell, but I don’t like ter think er the close 
chance we had er losin’ ye,” said her father. 

My Randy’s been so brave, I think we 
ought to take off this funny dress, and make 
her look handsome,” said Prue. I don’t 
b’lieve her very best dress is good ’nough 
fer to-day. She ought to have a crown like 
the princesses wears in my fairy book.” 

“ It don’t make no odds what she wears, 
Prue, she’s the best girl in this taown,” said 
Philury, . I wish I could stand on the 
meetin’ haouse steeple ’n’ tell the hull taown 
what er brave thing she done.” 

A faint smile curved Randy’s lips as she 
whispered : 

^^Oh, Philury, it was not such a great 
thing. You would have done the same 
thing, yourself.” 

I ain’t so sure,” Philury answered. 

I’ve got the strength, but I might er got 
rattled. Most likely I’d er been flyin’ 


A CONFESSION 245 

^raound, er screechin’ fer help, while Janie 
was er floppin^ in the water.’’ 

Weak as she was, Randy could not help 
laughing at the ludicrous picture which 
Philury described. 

Dr. Bushnell withdrew, saying that 
Randy had no further need of him, and, 
thinking that there were too many around 
her to permit her to rest, he offered to take 
Mrs. Jenks down to the Centre, thus cleverly 
cutting short what might have been a long 
call. 

He charged Philury to make at once a cup 
of strong beef tea, and chuckled as he saw 
her hasten toward the kitchen. 

Two aout er Randy’s way fer a spell,” 
he thought. 

Prue begged to be allowed to stay at home 
from school that afternoon. 

But I almost lost my Randy,” she said, 
do let me stay with her the rest of the 
day,” and after exacting a promise that she 
would be very quiet and not tire Randy, she 
was allowed to sit in her little chair very 


246 RANDY^S GOOD TIAIEG 
close beside the one whom she loved so 
dearly; and she kept her promise faithfully, 
talking only when Randy wished to talk, 
and humming contentedly when Randy 
chose to be silent. 

Mrs. Weston and Aunt Prudence, Philury 
and the Squire cared tenderly for Randy, 
and indeed waited upon her so persistently 
that Prue complained that they left nothing 
for her to do. 

I love to do nice things for Randy,” she 
said, “ but when I get home from school the 
nicest things are all done.” She thought it 
very hard that she could not spend the en- 
tire week at home, although she derived 
some pleasure from telling the other chil- 
dren of Randy ^s bravery. 

Miss Gilman was much amused one day 
at recess time, when she heard Prue say to 
Johnny Buffum : 

Everybody knows my Randy’s just a 
norful nice girl, but she’s something ever 
so much bigger now; she’s a herry-wine! 
Dr. Bushnell said so.” 


A CONFESSION 247 

My ! What’s that? ” asked Johnny with 
staring eyes. 

I do’no, only they call you that when 
you’ve pulled somebody out of the water,” 
exclaimed Prue lucidly. 

Oh, that’s it?” said Johnny, evidently 
much relieved ; then we’ve got one to aour 
haouse.” 

^^Got w^hat, ” asked Prue. 

A herry-wine. Ma gives me a bath 
every Sat’day night ’n’ when she’s done she 
pulls me out’n the water.” 

The expression of extreme disgust upon 
Prue’s face was so droll that the teacher 
was obliged to retire, lest the children 
should see that she was laughing. 

The McLeods drove over to the Weston 
farm with Janie to inquire for Randy. It 
was the day after Janie’s mishap, and fer- 
vently they showed their love and gratitude. 

“ I w^ad hae said that I could nae love ye 
mair, but I do, I do. I ne’er loved ye as 
noo,” said Margaret McLeod. 


248 


RANDY’S GOOD TIMES 


Randy smiled through happy tears as she 
watched them drive away. 

“ It is sweet to be so loved/’ she said, but, 
father, any one would have done what I did. 
Who would have stood and refused to help 
Janie? ” 

“ Not many girls would have done as well 
and as bravely as you did, Randy. I’m 
sure er that,” was the earnest reply. 

Randy strolled down the path from 
the dooryard and sat down upon the 
wall. 

The garden was aglow with early flowers, 
and the sunlight seemed to enhance their 
glorious coloring. She had not heard ap- 
proaching footsteps until some one stood 
beside her. 

It was Jemima Babson. Jemima, with 
the same unhappy face which all through 
the winter had so puzzled her family and 
friends. The same, and yet not quite the 
same. It was no less unhappy, but the 
stolid expression had given place to a cer- 


A CONFESSION 


249 


tain resolution which made her whispered 
words seem almost fierce. 

Take this,’’ she said, as she held a small 
parcel toward Eandy, “ it’s made me un- 
comfortable all winter.” 

Kandy hesitated. 

Take it, it’s yours ! ” she cried vehem- 
ently. Then, suddenly her manner changed 
and she sank upon the wall and covered her 
face with her hands. She was crying softly 
now, and Randy was at loss what to do or 
say. Jemima had been strange enough all 
the season, and this surely was a new phase. 
And the little parcel — what could she mean 
regarding it? Randy laid her hand gently 
upon J emima’s arm. 

“What is this little parcel?” she asked, 
“ truly it cannot be anything which belongs 
to me. You have never borrowed anything 
of mine ; you are surely mistaken.” 

“ I didn’t borrow it, I took it — took it, I 
tell yer, Randy, because, because — open the 
bundle and see, just see what’s in it ! ” 

Still believing that Jemima was laboring 


250 


EANDrS GOOD TIMES 


under a delusion Randy untied the string 
which held the wrapping, and a faint cry 
of surprise escaped her lips. 

Aunt Rosabelle’s little pelerine ! ’’ she 
exclaimed. Oh, thank you for bringing 
it back to me. Where did you find it? 

Then realizing that Jemima was silent, 
Randy turned, and found the girl looking 
fixedly at her as if she had not heard the 
question. 

^ Where did you find it? Oh, Jemima, 
are you ill?’’ she asked, for the face into 
which she looked had become very pale, and 
although the lips parted, they refused to 
speak. Now, thoroughly alarmed by Jemi- 
ma’s strange manner, Randy started toward 
the house intending to call Aunt Pru- 
dence. 

She felt that the girl was not only ill, 
but mentally unbalanced, and that some- 
thing should be done for her at once. 

She had proceeded but a few steps when 
Jemima hastened after her, catching her by 
the arm, and thus abruptly stopping her. 


A CONFESSION 251 

Her eyes were bright, and she was much ex- 
cited. 

I can tell ye ^baout it naow,’^ she said, 
come back an^ set daown on the wall ; I 
ain’t crazy, ’though I know ye think it. 
’Twas at the costume festival that ye lost 
the pelerine. Ye wore the pink silk an’ lace 
kerchief that belonged to yer great-aunt 
an’ every one was sayin’ haow han’some ye 
looked. I got kind er tired er bearin’ it ’n’ 
when Arthur Earnshaw said ye was the 
loveliest girl in the room, an’ wearin’ the 
finest costume, I was mean ’nough ter be 
jealous. No, don’t ye speak ’til I’ve fin- 
ished. I was jealous, an’ thinkin’ ter make 
yer rig less fetchin’, I watched my chance, 
an’ when the little silk pelerine slipped from 
yer shoulders, I took ’n’ hid it, a minute 
after I heard Arthur say ter Eunice : 

^ Kandy has taken off her cape, and I 
think her dress is even more becomin’ with- 
out it.’ So I didn’t make much aout er 
that, an’ ’twas a childish thing fer me ter 
do. ’Twas mean, too, an’ I knew it, an’ 


252 


EANBT8 GOOD TIMES 


Eandy/’ she said, drawing closer, “ye left 
early, an’ I slipped away from Belindy, an’ 
followed ye home. I didn’t want any of yer 
folks ter know what I did, so I kept aout er 
sight, but when yer was all in, an’ the door 
shet, ’n’ I see the light up in yer chamber, 
I crept under yer winder, an’ called softly 
ter ye. At first ye didn’t hear me, ’n’ then, 
when ye came to the winder, I lost my cour- 
age ’n’ ran back ter the vestry. 

“ Belindy was jest gettin’ ready ter go 
home, ’n’ I had ter take the little parcel 
with me. All the winter I’ve fretted over 
the thing, er longin’ ter bring it back, ’n’ 
hatin’ ter let yer know haow mean I could 
be. Every time ye’ve spoken kindly, er 
made excuses fer me, it has seemed as if 1 
must tell ye, but ’twas this morning decided 
me. I met Mrs. McLeod and Janie in the 
lane, near the haouse, an’ Randy, when they 
told me of yer bravery I said ter myself : 

“^Jemima Babson, ye’re not much of er 
girl, but ye might spunk up jest bravery 
’nough ter go ter Randy, return what 


A CONFESSION 253 

belongs ter her, ’n’ tell her ye^re sorry ’n’ 
ashamed.’ ” 

Jemima’s eyes were full of tears, and she 
bent her head, completely overcome with 
her confession. 

In a moment Randy’s arms were about 
her, and her voice was very sweet as she 
said : 

“ Oh, I am sorry that you have been griev- 
ing all this long time when it might have 
been so easily set straight. Why were you 
afraid to tell me? ” 

I wa’n’t afraid,” said Jemima, I was 
jest ashamed, ’n’ no wonder; but naow, ef ye 
can, I want yer ter fergive me, sence I’m 
sovrj an’ willin’ ter say it, an’ ter tell ye 
that I love ye, fer I do, an’ after this long 
spell er wretchedness I’ll gladly promise ter 
be yer true friend, that is, ef ye want me ; I 
shouldn’t think ye would.” 

Randy’s arms tightened around Jemima. 
“ Oh, I do, I do care for your friendship. 
You shall be my true friend, I promise that, 
and more — I will be yours.” 


254 BANDTS GOOD TIMES 

Jemima sat erect, a glad light in her eyes. 

I haven’t been so happy fer a long time,” 
she said, and when she had left her, Randy 
saw', as she watched her walking down the 
road, that her step had regained its quick, 
light tread, and that she carried herself 
with a buoyancy that for months had been 
missing. 


CHAPTEK XIV 


TWO CAVALIERS 

'Jemima had heard of Kandy^s heroism 
from Mrs. McLeod, but Mrs. Hodgkins had 
obtained her information from a far less re- 
liable source. 

Old Mr. Simpkins had learned something 
regarding it, but his deafness sometimes 

made him hear crooked/’ as Hi Babson 
said; Johnny Buffum had given her a few 
points, but his information was somewhat 
twisted, and when on the road Mrs. Hodg- 
kins met Eeuben Jenks, it was indeed a 
curious tale which she had to tell. With an 
absence of preliminaries she rushed forward 
to greet him. 

“ How- j e-do, Reuben?” she cried, “ ’n’ 
hev ye beared the tremenjous news? No, 
I kin see by yer face ye haven’t. Wal, 
Sandy McLeod an’ his man Donald, ’n’ 
255 


256 


BANDY^S GOOD TIMES 


Janie, ’n’ Kandy Weston was all pitched 
head foremost inter the mill-pond, ’n^ they’d 
all er been draownded ef ’t hadn’t er been fer 
Sandy’s dog. Sir Walter Scott, what dragged 
’em all aout, one to er time, ’n’ Randy, she’s 
’most draownded, fer they can’t seem ter 
bring her to, ’n’ I’m goin’ up there naow 
’s fast my feet ’ll take me, ter jine in 
the excitement ’n’ see ’f I kin be er any 
help.” 

Then taking a long breath, she turned 
abruptly, and commenced to make her way 
up the hill. It did not occur to her that in 
her haste to tell the news, she had given 
Reuben no opportunity to say a word, hav- 
ing vigorously shouted her information, and 
then immediately left him, where in the 
middle of the road he stood looking after 
her. 

In his way, Reuben was as impulsive as 
Mrs. Hodgkins, and when he had recovered 
from his astonishment, he started at a brisk 
gait to overtake her, and compel her to tell 
him what sort of an accident had precipitated 


TWO CAYALIEE8 


257 


four persons and a dog into the mill-pond. 
He had gone but a few steps when it oc- 
curred to him that, if Randy was so ill 
Jotham, who cared for her so earnestly, 
ought to be notified. With Reuben to 
think was to act, and he at once retraced 
his steps, hurrying in an opposite direction 
toward the Center, where at Earnests store 
he bought paper and an envelope and penned 
this terrifying note : 

Friend Jotham: 

I write in haste to tell you that 
Randy has been nearly drowned, and as she 
has not come to yet, but may, any minute, 
you had better get leave of absence and 
come home to see her. Haven^t yet learned 
particulars. 

In haste, your friend, 

Reuben Jenks.’^ 

He sealed his letter and gave it to Mr. 
Barnes, who was storekeeper and post- 
master as well. 

I wish I could rush that letter to 
Jotham,^’ he said anxiously. 

u Why, ye kin hustle it er leetle,’^ Silas 


258 RANDTS GOOD TIMES 
Barnes replied, by puttin^ a ex try stamp 
onto it, but it ^11 cost ye ten cents.^^ 

“ I don’t mind that, so long as the letter 
gits promptly started,” said Reuben; and 
so the missive sped on its way and its author 
turned his steps homeward, congratulating 
himself upon his promptness. 

He spent the afternoon at work with his 
father in the meadow, and thus it happened 
that it was at the tea-table that his mother 
related the true story of Randy’s brave act. 

Then he told of meeting Mrs. Hodgkins, 
of her wild report, and of his hastily writ- 
ten letter. 

Well, I blundered some,” he said, but 
it ain’t much use ter try ter mend matters 
now. I sent the letter with er special stamp 
this noon an’ it ’ll reach him the first thing 
to-morrer morning, ’n’ if he gets leave, he’ll 
be off ter the deepot ’fore a second note 
could get there. I’ll hev ter trust that he’ll 
be glad ter come and tell Randy he approves 
er her bravery. 

‘‘An’, speaking er Jotham, mother, I’m 


nYO CAVALIERS 259 

proud to be his friend. He’s makin’ his 
mark as er student, an’ while I wasn’t never 
meant fer one, we’ve one trait in common: 
we’re true to aour friends, ’n’ we’ve prom- 
ised ter stand by each other as long as we 
live.” ' 

Mrs. Jenks laid her hand upon Keuben’s 
shoulder and looked lovingly up into his 
face as she said : 

Ye may not be er student, Keuben, but 
ye’re trusty and true, an’ while ’long er the 
other folks, I approve er J otham, I kin truly 
say that I’m praoud ter hev er manly son 
that’s as true ter his mother as he is ter his 
friends. Yer father thinks that while ye 
didn’t keer much fer schoolin’, ye’ve got er 
reel knack fer business. Success is success 
whether it’s in one thing er ’nother, ’n’ I 
b’lieve ye’ll git it ; I think it’s in ye ter suc- 
ceed.” 

Thanks fer yer faith in me, mother ; I 
b’lieve in myself, an’ with you ’n’ father 
ter encourage me. I’ll do my best ter win 
enough ter seem ter warrant yer pride. I 


260 RANDrS GOOD TIME8 
want two things : success in business an^ the 
respect er the men I have dealings with.’’ 
Firmly he grasped his mother’s proffered 
hand, and as they looked into each other’s 
eyes, they read the thoughts which filled 
their hearts, although no word was spoken. 

The next day at twilight, a train stopped 
at the Centre, and a single passenger 
alighted — a tall, fine-looking fellow whose 
dark eyes bore unmistakable signs of anx- 
iety. Firmly grasping the handles of his 
suit case, he was hastening up the road, 
when suddenly the station agent shouted : 

Hey, mister ! Wal, but what’s the use 
er bein’ in such a tarnal rush? Here, 
Reuben,” he called to the youth who was 
passing, overtake that ’ere fellow ’n’ give 
him his ambrill. He left it in the keers, ’n’ 
the brakeman told me ter give it ter him.” 

Reuben took the umbrella and hastened 
after the man, seeing something familiar in 
the firm tread and easy swinging gait. 

Good mind ter risk it,” he thought, “ ef 


TWO CAVALIERS 261 

he’s er stranger he’ll hev ter excuse it. 
A-hem ! ” 

The pedestrian did not turn, nor slacken 
his pace. Evidently he had not heard the 
introductory cough. 

I don’t care what his name is, I’ll bet 
it’s him, ’n’ I’m goin’ ter holler. 

“ Jotham!” 

The figure wheeled squarely about, then 
hastened toward Keuben with extended 
hands. 

How are you, old fellow? What, my 
umbrella? Did I leave that? Well, I got 
your note and I cannot tell you how I thank 
you for sending for me; and now tell me, 
first of all, how is Randy? I’ve been so 
anxious that it is a wonder that I did not 
leave all my belongings in the car.” 

Then Reuben told of the twisted report 
which had reached him; of Randy’s hero- 
ism; of her modesty when receiving well 
deserved praise, and finished by assuring 
Jotham that she was quite well. So ye see, 
Jotham, I kinder made a fool of ye, but 


262 BANDY^S GOOD TIALES 
p’raps ye’ll fergive me, ’n’ go ’n’ tell Kandy 
what you think er her. I tell ye the hull 
taown is praoud er her, ’n’ I guess you’ll 
find somethin’ ter say when you see her.” 

The two friends parted at Jotham’s gar- 
den gate, Reuben pleading an excuse for 
hastening home. He well knew that the 
pleasure of Jotham’s unexpected home com- 
ing would be more complete if only his 
family were present. 

On the following morning, his fears for 
Randy allayed, Jotham walked over to the 
Weston farm, with a firm step and a light 
heart, full of pleasant things which he in- 
tended to say to the girl whom, now more 
than ever, he admired. 

And while Jotham walked briskly along 
the sunny road, his dark, handsome face 
bright with anticipation, another youth, as 
brave and manly, hastened across the fields, 
whistling merrily, his fair hair bright in the 
sunlight, and his blue eyes twinkling with 
a happy light. 

Both were bent upon the same errand; 


TWO CAVALIERS 


263 


each had set out with Randy^s door as an 
objective point, to be reached by the shortest 
route. 

Thus it was that when, at the meeting of 
the crossroads, the two came face to face, 
they gave each other a cheery greeting, but 
their voices lacked the ring of enthusiasm, 
for each divined the other’s errand. 

Each had intended to congratulate Randy 
upon her recovery, and had, quite natu- 
rally, felt that he could dispense with an 
audience ; but each in his way was a 
straightforward, manly fellow, and thus 
bravely facing the fact that they both 
equally admired Randy, and prized her 
friendship, they proceeded together toward 
the house, and were just in time to meet 
Randy as she came down the path toward 
the road. 

She was surprised to see Jotham, and 
very glad to see both, and at once offered to 
go back to the house to entertain them. 

I was only going out for a little walk,” 
she said, but they would not permit her to 


264 


RANDrS GOOD TIMES 


lose the stroll through the woods which she 
had intended to enjoy, and insisted upon 
forming a bodyguard, Arthur upon one 
side, and Jotham upon the other; and so 
it happened that Aunt Prudence, looking 
from the window, saw the merry trio as it 
turned the corner on its way toward the 
grove. 

There goes Kandy with Arthur Earn- 
shaw an’ Jotham, er leastways it looks like 
him, though I do’no’ why he should be here 
in these parts naow, an’ she’s er walkin’ be- 
tween ’em as impartial as ye please. I 
declare, it would puzzle er lawyer ter tell 
whether she ’njoys the comp’ny er one 
more’n t’other. It makes me laugh ter 
watch her.” 

“ Well, it don’t make me laugh,” said 
Prue, for in my fairy-book the princesses 
all has princes, and I want to know which 
Randy ’ll like best for a prince, Arthur or 
Jotharh-or some body else, and I can’t tell, 
and when I ask her she only laughs, and 
says she hasn’t thought ’nough ’bout it to 


TWO CAYALIEBS 265 

know how to answer. I wonder if anybody 
could tell which is the prince.” 

And little Prue was not the only one who 
was perplexed. 

Those who are equally puzzled, and who 
would like to see Randy again, may read 
of her and her friends in Randy^s Luck.” 
















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